Bittersweet Flight
by Jane-Water
Summary: "He was my best friend. Due to him and Glee club, I have been able to start moving on from my past. Yet, I still haven't been able to admit my secret. With the possibility of love blooming, I may have to." SamxOC Season 2
1. Chapter 1 Pretend

_The air up there in the clouds is very pure and fine, bracing and delicious. And why shouldn't it be? It is the same the angels breathe._

_-_Mark Twain

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><p><strong>Prologue:<strong>

It starts on a plane.

Passengers shuffle down the aisle towards their seats. Overhead compartments quickly fill up as bags are stored inside. Soon, people take their seats and prepare for take off. Some have magazines, some books, and some have electronics which will quickly be put away. Most passengers are just preparing to go to some place; perhaps on vacation, maybe for business, or to see family. Some are weary and tired after a long day of traveling. There was just so much hassle when traveling that it sometimes seemed that it would be better to not even travel at all. This time especially would have been better if the passengers had stayed home. The thing was, those people just wanted to take a flight. None of them were expecting what's to come next.

Once the travelers find their seats, they settle in for the ride. Soon the voice of a flight attendant rings out, telling about the departure. Her feminine voice rings chirpily, but with a blandness likes she's done this a million times before, which she has. She tells all the passengers to prepare for take off. Those passengers have many names and there are many places that they are going, on that flight, yet two people ring out the loudest. These two people are ordinary. There is nothing about them that is a tell tale sign of something wrong because there is _nothing_ wrong with them. They are just two ordinary people; rings on their fingers signaling that the two are husband and wife. The man is dressed in a simple black business suit. For him this trip is more than for pleasure, its also business related. However, the woman is dressed simply. They are like everyone else as they settle down for the flight. A song plays in the background. Its one of those elevator songs that is annoyingly catchy and you can't ever seem to get it out of your head.

The flight begins as all flights do. The safety procedure is explained and then the emergency doors are shown. It happens quickly and no passengers even pay attention. They should have.

It is a while longer until the plane even takes off. But finally it does. The wife grasps her husband's hand so tightly that she is white-knuckled. Unlike her husband she is inexperienced with flying. She's done it before, but not often. That's why she was so scared. The plane doesn't stop for her fears though, instead it charges onward through the air. Cutting through it easily like a knife through butter. After the initial shock of changing altitudes the passengers relax again. The voice rings out saying that electronic devices can now be used. The voice also announces that movie players can be rented for a price. The wife rents one when the flight attendant comes by.

The flight is fast enough and eventually they come to their location: New York City. The plane is about to land when an error occurs. The pilot notices that a light from the landing gear hasn't turned on. _Something's wrong,_ the pilot thinks. He doesn't realize the most important thing of all. The autopilot buttons had been bumped by one of the crew altering the settings from level flight to a slow descent. Eventually the plane starts loosing height as it nears a less populated area of the airport. Since this stretch of the runway was less populated it was lighted at lesser amount. The pilot and crew were distracted by the lighting problem so much they didn't realize how close it was coming to the ground.

The wife's electronic device started to flicker slightly like a TV with a bad connection. She turned it off as they neared the ground. She was putting the device slowly away, when they first hit the ground.

It was rough and bumpy…way too rough and bumpy. The plane was screeching like a starved cat. It tilted to the right and then the left. A collective gasp was let out between all of the passengers. The plane began to tip too much to the side and then it fell all the way over. It tumbled and turned in a cacophony of clashes, until finally, it stopped. The planes wings are bent like a paper airplane that got creased the wrong way. The plane itself is damaged, completely destroyed. For a while there are signs of something in that wreckage. And then there is nothing.

Just the crackle of fire from the rummage and the roar of ambulances and firefighters coming. The debris is all shattered and broken, but amid all the wreckage there was one tiny piece of electronic device.

A movie player with a cracked screen.

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><p><strong>Chapter 1 Pretend<strong>

**Abby**

Blue.

It's the color of the sky, in which the pretty little bluebirds fly. There are planes that cut through the clouds and there are balloons that are sometimes let go and fly up..up…and away. All of this happens in the sky. The sky is colossal, but stunning all the same.

It's amazing. So big and so vast that it seems almost impossible. There is not just a single dot of blue with a sprinkle of white, it's instead a whole ceiling of color; a pretty blue ceiling, not unlike the ceiling from my childhood room. There are people who stare up at the sky, in pure and utter wonder.

I was one of those people. I used to just look up at. I was curious, amazed. I imagined a place somewhere over the rainbow. A magical place full of gumdrops and sugarcanes, where happiness reins free and everyone has their own yellow brick rode to follow. When I was younger, I had already set my yellow brick rode. I would go to school, get straight As, do extracurricular activities, and then go to college and get a high society job, maybe find a place to sing in between. Basically, I would try to be perfect. I would try to do everything right. I would do this for my parents. For my brother. For myself. I had never once thought that being perfect wasn't necessary. I shouldn't try to be something that was impossible.

_**perfect **adj., n. _

_1. accurate, exact, or correct in every detail: a perfect copy._

_2. entirely without any flaws, defects, or shortcomings: a perfect apple; the perfect crime._

A perfect me.

Sure, I had my flaws, my shortcomings. There were things wrong with me. I was like everyone else. I wanted to be ten pounds thinner. I wanted to be prettier. I would look at the perfect models on the front covers of magazine and instantly ask myself, _why can't I look like that? _It took me a while to realize that I didn't have to look like that. That I was perfect just the way I was. But that took me a long time to figure out.

What I had always known though, was that I liked the color blue. Blue was a good color to describe me. My eyes were blue. My favorite color was blue. My room had been blue. I had liked blue.

My brother once said that he had too much blue in his wardrobe. It made sense. Jeans were blue, so we decided blue is a safe color to wear. So then we surround ourselves with blue. Yes, we have our pinks and our purples, our yellows and oranges, greens, purples, and reds. We have our blacks and whites and our grays in between. But mostly we have blue. The sky is everywhere after all.

Blue _was _my favorite color, until it all changed. I changed, my life was changed, and everything close or at all connected to it. And so my favorite color changed. Now I like green.

I like the green trees and the bushes, the lush green grass. I began to find new love in things I would see everyday because even life in the city you see green. There were the parks and the trees. The green of passerby's clothing and such. It happened quickly and easily: I stopped loving the blues and instead I began loving the greens. Green was a nice color, so bright and lively. It seemed positive and I needed all the optimistic aspects in my life as possible.

In addition, I loved how I could just imagine the green of rolling hills and fields. I would no longer imagine places beyond that blue sky. Nope, now I would realize sometimes there aren't places beyond the rainbow, but there are countless green fields, just waiting for someone to run through them. Green was also a color that signified rebirth and hope because green was the color of those leaves surging forward with new life. Green was also a safe color. Green is all about balance too. It easy and solid, stable and reliable. Unlike blue which can so easily change to grey.

Because of the sky, I now like green.

I also like the color black. I wasn't Goth or anything, I just liked the color black in addition to the color green. Black covered; it was a color that filled up a space. Even though it can envelop an object, eventually when you're ready you can peel back the black and reveal the color. Whether it was blue or green, or even both, I had yet to know. I also had yet to know when the day would be that I would reveal what's behind the blackness in my life.

I knew though, that I wasn't ready to do that just yet. It wasn't the day for it.

No, today was just Monday. The first day of school. I was starting today at an ordinary high school: McKinley High. It seemed like a fine place, but more importantly an ordinary one, and a place away from all the memories.

Maybe a place where I belong.

The car rumbled and grunted as we drove down the street. I was sitting shotgun in our rusted old pickup truck. My aunt Cheryl was driving. I actually haven't learned to drive yet because when you're living in the city you don't really need to, and parking is impossible.

My aunt was a frazzled, silently eccentric old lady. She was my mother's older sister. Aunt Cheryl was middle-aged with deep auburn hair like mine. Her hair was a darker color though, almost brown, while mine was much more red. Her hair was long and frizzy, it seemed almost unkempt, but that was just a common family trait. Laugh lines were evident on her face and they were the most defined of her wrinkles. Her eyes were brown, but light. You could see yourself easily just by looking at them. She was a stern woman, but to me she was nice, even fun. Yes, at times I would swear that she had gone insane, but in the short amount of time that I had lived with her, she's been reasonably okay.

A tune played lightly in the car: "I'm Yours" by Jason Mraz. I hummed lightly to it.

"_Well open up your mind and see like me  
>Open up your plans and damn you're free<br>Look into your heart and you'll find love love love love  
>Listen to the music of the moment people dance and sing, we're just one big family<br>It's our God-forsaken right to be loved loved loved loved loved_

_So I won't hesitate no more, no more_  
><em>It cannot wait I'm sure<em>

_There's no need to complicate_  
><em>Our time is short<em>  
><em>This is our fate, I'm yours."<em>

I stopped humming though once the song ended and instead I stared out the window. The town of Lima, Ohio seemed kind of small. It was one of those towns that seemed like you could blink and you would have passed it. Of course, there's much more to a town like this. Definitely much more than meets the eyes. After the song ended, there was silence in the car. My aunt had her eyes locked forward onto the road. She was an okay driver, but our truck was old and not the most reliable. Still, she turned to me for a moment.

"How are you feeling?" she asked lightly. Lately, I've been very high-strung and willing to snap out at anyone at any moment. But Cheryl had been nice to me. She knew what I was going through.

"I'm fine," I answered smoothly. It sounded fake though, anyone would have been able to see behind my poker face.

She tore her gaze from the road for a moment to take a glance at me.

"You're sure?" she inquired levelly.

"Yes," I mumbled. "I just want to go to school." I actually wanted to go to school. It sounded weird. I never before had really wanted to go to school. I was like all the other kids: I went to school grudgingly. But today I wanted to go to school. Mostly so I could get far away from Cheryl's hawk like gaze that never seemed to waver from me. Since I came to her house she had been like a mother bear to me. Protective and scared that I would hurt myself some how. But I knew why she was like this. She lost someone on that fateful day too.

"Okay well, here we are," she announced. I looked away from her startled that we were here already. I guess this town really was that small.

"Here we are," I repeated almost sadly.

"Bye," she said.

"Goodbye."

I quickly pulled my backpack over my shoulder and pushed the rickety door open. Then I shuffled out of the car and shut door easily. I was about to run away when I heard the car's window slowly creak down.

"Abby, wait," Cheryl called.

"Yes?" I questioned as I turned around.

"Don't forget to go the counselor. She's really supposed to help," she assured. I had told her I didn't want help from a counselor. I didn't want to sit in a chair and pore my guts out to someone I didn't even know. It was worse enough when Cheryl would confront about how I was doing.

"Supposed to are the key words," I reminded her, but when I saw her face darken I quickly spoke up again. "I'll go to her Cheryl. You don't have to worry about me."

She looked at me like she was sizing me up, unsure if I was lying or not, but finally she shrugged it off.

"Have a good day," she said.

"You too."

Then she sped away, the tires squealing as she turned almost too sharply.

I turned around too, but this time I faced the school: McKinley High. It's definitely not a school in the city and it's probably not even high tech like my old school in New York. Hopefully it would have a good library and maybe even some nice teachers. This year I needed good, I needed nice. I don't need drama. This year I just want to be normal, ordinary, and I don't want to get hurt. Was it so impossible to think that just one year in my life could go on without a hitch? I'm already living though I just need happiness. This school could be a brand new start for me. It could be fun.

Yet, I always go back to where this all started; the reason why I was here. I don't think I'll ever get over it.

But maybe I won't have to. Maybe I can just plan a different flight.

A happy flight.

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><p><strong>Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or any of it's characters. <strong>

**Reviews are appreciated! **

**So are any readers! :)**


	2. Chapter 2 Sushi

**I do not own Glee or any of its wonderful characters. I also do not own any song. However, I do own Abby Johnson, her aunt, her mother, her father.**

**Okay well, please review, review, review! And I really do hope you like Abby and the way she is incorporated into the story.**

**Anyway, here's chapter 2**

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><p><strong>Chapter 2 Sushi<strong>

As a kid, I was strange when it came to food. It wasn't that I was picky, which I was, it was just my favorites and least favorites that stood out. Since I was four years old, my favorite food had been sushi. I had loved how there were so many different combinations and types.

When I was four my family would go to one of those Japanese restaurants where they made the food right in front of you. I was delighted by the volcanoes of onion rings and how the cook would flip little shrimps into his hat. Not to mention, all the amazing knife tricks all the cooks seemed to know. Whenever I went to one of those restaurants I felt like I was Alice in Wonderland because it was a strange world in those restaurants. It was loud, the lighting was dim, and the delicious smells of sushi were wafting through the air. Despite the odd atmosphere, when I was at one of those sushi restaurants, I was in heaven.

I inherited my love of sushi from my father. He was just like me, a kid in a candy store, when he went to a sushi restaurant. When I was around the ages of ten, we would dare each other to try some of the more obscure sushi. My dad had dared me to eat octopus. I hadn't like it very much. To me, octopus just tasted like rubber. But it was my father's favorite, so I ate more of it. He was convinced that over time I would fall in love with the food.

The same thing happened with me and mashed potatoes. My family had thought I was insane because I didn't like it. They said it was tasteful unless you put something on it. I did try their suggestions. I put butter on it and salt too, but nothing changed. Like the octopus no matter how many times I ate mashed potatoes my taste buds wouldn't change. I simply did not like octopus or mashed potatoes.

But then when everything changed and I changed too. I guess my taste buds changed also. Now I like mashed potatoes and octopus. Separate of course. It's amazing how for the longest time, I didn't like the two foods and then suddenly I did.

I guess sometimes things just change suddenly before you can even say goodbye to them.

Right now things were changing. Right now, I was changing my mind rapidly, trying to decide whether or not I should go to the counselor's. At last, I decided that I was actually going to follow my aunt's directions and see the counselor. Somehow, I knew that my aunt already told the counselor that she should be expecting me, so she would definitely be expecting me soon.

"Excuse me, are you Ms. Pillsbury?" I blurted out finally as I opened the glass door to her office.

"Yes, I am," she said in a kind, sugary tone. "You must be Abby Johnson?"

"That's right," I answered. She seemed like a nice lady. She was a red-head like me, but with light almost orange locks compared to my darker reddish-brown hair.

"Have you gotten your class schedule?" Ms. Pillsbury asked.

"Yep," I said holding up the piece of paper in my hand for her to see. "Pretty much the same classes as my previous school."

"Good," she responded. The lady seemed nice, but there was something odd about her. Maybe it was just me. After all, she was one of the few that knew about my parents. "Why don't you take a seat and we can talk for a moment before you go to first period."

I looked at her for a minute. I hadn't expected to have to talk with her so soon. I had just come to introduce myself to her and possibly get directions to my first period because I was still lost in the school. However, maybe I should go sit down and talk to her for a minute. If I didn't somehow word would probably get back to my aunt and then I would get in trouble for not going. So right then I sat there in the slightly uncomfortable chairs. All the while the decision had been playing out in my mind; Ms. Pillsbury had been watching me closely. She didn't stop staring at me with those doe-eyes even when I was sitting down in those chairs patiently. Finally she spoke.

"So, your aunt has informed me own your…situation," she started. I nodded knowing this already. "And as a counselor, I would like to help you."

There was silence for a moment as she waited for me to speak.

"What if I don't think I need help?" I asked as politely as I could. "I'm dealing with what happened by myself and I'm doing fine."

It was a lie; a cold lie that sped out of my mouth before I could stop it. I didn't want to lie. In fact, I hated lying. My mother had always told me to not tell lies. She said one day the lie would unravel into something much more drastic and severe than what it would have been before. Of course, I believed her. So I didn't lie. I don't lie. Yet, I felt like I had the need to lie right then. I didn't want to but I just did. It just happened.

But she was a high-school counselor. She could probably spot a lie or liar as if there was a big flashing light pointing at me blinking _Liar! Liar!_

"Your aunt said that you've been having a hard time adjusting to Lima," Ms. Pillsbury pointed out.

"It's different than New York," I replied blandly. Lima and New York were definitely two completely different places. One had a population of around 37,000 and the other almost had a population of 20 million. One had happy memories. And one was a clean slate. "But I'm fine with it and I'm adjusting."

Ms. Pillsbury looked at me uncertainly, but didn't say anything for a while.

"Please Ms. Pillsbury," I said. "I'm really am fine and the last thing I need to do is start coming here. What if the students here saw? They'd label me before they even knew me and right now, I don't want to be labeled as having problems. I just want to be normal." I said this in one breath. I just wanted finish this little talk and get out of here. "Can you at least give me that?" I asked.

As I asked this I started getting out of my seat. I really didn't think that Ms. Pillsbury could keep me here against my will, so she couldn't stop me if I wanted to leave.

"Abby, I think it would be best if-"

"No, I'm sorry Ms. Pillsbury, but I can't do this. I don't belong in here poring out my guts to you who I don't even know. And I'm tired of people telling me what to do and what is best. For once in my life, I want to just make this decision by myself," I explained. "And that's why I'm going to tell my aunt I'm not coming to these sessions." I was about to turn around when I saw a man knocking on the door. He had short curly hair and it looked like he gelled it a lot. He looked very expectantly at Ms. Pillsbury from behind the glass. He must have been a teacher. "Thanks Ms. Pillsbury, but I'm just going to go to class now. Tell my aunt that I didn't come or not, I don't care." Then I turned to leave.

"Abby, your aunt insisted on these sessions."

I sighed and curved back around to look at her.

"Ms. Pillsbury, I'll be fine. Don't worry about it," I assured. It was the same line I had told my aunt. The same _lie_. But by now the lie was already out there and it was said twice. There was no taking it back.

Then I got up and out of the room. I brushed past the teacher with the gelled hair and marched away. I didn't belong there in that counselor's room. I was fine. I was okay. I'm getting over it.

I guess I've gotten so good that I can lie to myself.

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><p>Sometimes I feel lost. Currently, I feel like I'm spiraling uncontrollably into the depths of nothingness. Like I'm in a bottomless pit and there's nothing for me to hold onto before for I fall down, down, and away. But then again, I've always had an overactive imagination.<p>

However, what I wasn't imagining were the penetrating stares that pored into me in every class. I thought it would be over by first period, but it wasn't. People would still stare up at me questioningly, wondering who the new girl was, and I'd tell them the same story. That I just moved from New York because my parents wanted me to keep away from the city-life and actually have a few years of normal schooling. If that had only been the case. I would have taken that any day over the truth, but the truth was tricky thing and it was slowly sliding away until my whole existence here at McKinley High was a lie. But I kept telling myself that I would rather have people feeling sorry for me because I got downgraded from New York to Lima instead of pitying me because of what happened to my parents.

Still, no matter what I did, the stares did not lessen. I wasn't odd looking and I never thought that I was especially beautiful either. Of course, my parents would always say that I was beautiful, but they were just a tad bit biased. Ultimately, when I look across from me at the mirror, I don't see anything special. I just see me. And most of the time I don't understand why I should be allowed to be there when my parents aren't. It doesn't seem right or fair. But life wasn't fair. We can hope though, that life is just.

I heard the sound of a toilet being flushed, while I washing washed my hands and drying them. In the reflection of the mirror I could see a girl with dark brown hair and equally colored brown eyes. She was wearing an interesting black and white polka-dot dress. She must have realized that I was here too because after she washed her hands she quickly sped up to me and held out her hand.

"Hello," she greeted. "I'm Rachel Berry." She said this eagerly, like she was someone very important and like I should know who she was.

"Hi," I said a bit unsurely because of her earnestness. "I'm Abby Johnson." I shook her hand too, but before I could say anything she spoke.

"You're new here?" she asked, but didn't wait for an answer. "You must be." She said carefully looking over me. "Anyway, I'm in this club here called Glee. We are looking for new members to join. Mostly people to stand behind me as I sing my solos. It would be a great way to make new friends at school here and we need more people to help support me. So it would be a win-win for all of us, wouldn't it?" Again she didn't wait for an answer. She had spoken so fast and fluidly that I barely even caught what she was saying. As for her saying it was a win-win for me. I didn't exactly think so because even though, I've been here just for a little while and I still have heard that people don't exactly like the glee club.

"Anyway think about it," she commanded. "We're doing a song during lunch, so you'll see how amazing I am."

Then she left. Flitted away like a chirping little bird which she reminded me vaguely of.

I shrugged my shoulders as she walked away. I've thought about joining a club or maybe trying out for the volleyball team because it was true. Joining a team or club is sometimes the best way to make friends, and especially for a new kid like me. However, Glee club wasn't me. I stopped singing once I left New York. I left singing behind there for what I thought would be forever.

Singing was too much like my mother. I had gotten my voice from her and she had been amazing. I wasn't as good as her, but I'd like to think that I had talent. Because of her talent, was why we had once lived in New York, well one of the reasons. She had grown-up in Lima moved to New York to be in Broadway. In New York she met my dad, he hadn't lived there actually. He had lived in Portland, Maine, but he moved to New York for a short while and there he met my mom and the rest was history, or so they say.

I hadn't left the bathroom yet. I was trying to find my cell phone that had fallen into the seemingly never ending depths of my backpack. But then I saw a reflection in the mirror and I realized that again, I was not alone. This time it was a blonde girl. She was pretty, very pretty. She was the kind of girl that people are automatically jealous of, she was just that attractive. Beautiful in fact. I guess she had also been in the bathroom, maybe even when the Rachel Berry girl was here. I wonder what her take on that girl was.

"It's not so bad you know," she said as she washed her hands. I locked eyes with her curiously, in the reflection of the mirror. "Glee Club I mean. I'm in it too. As you've heard, so is Rachel. That's usually a turning point for people thinking about joining." This girl obviously did not seem to like Rachel. "However, there's much more to it." She then twisted around from the mirror to face me. "I'm Quinn. We're trying to recruit new members, so if you think you might like Glee, you should try out."

"It's not my thing," I began. It wasn't my thing anymore. It once was. I used to actually love singing, but lately not so much.

Quinn shrugged her shoulders and then made her way out the bathroom door. "Well…Welcome to McKinley, Abby." And then she left. I assumed I would never see her again really or talk with her. She would be like everyone else this school. She'll disappear into the crowd like everybody. I had yet to even make a friend at this school, but that was because I felt like I didn't belong here.

There was nothing tying me down here in Lima, Ohio besides my aunt. Despite that New York and Maine had all of the memories; I belonged there, not here in this tiny town. There's no denying that New York and Ohio are two complete different things. New York was bigger and brighter; Ohio seemed dull in comparison. Mostly I didn't belong here because Ohio just wasn't me. But I was here now wasn't I?

And then I left the bathroom, to the sound of music.

* * *

><p><em>Yeah, yeah I'm out that Brooklyn,<br>Now I'm down in Tribeca,  
>Right next to DeNiro,<br>But I'll be hood forever,  
>I'm the new Sinatra,<br>And since I made it here,  
>I can make it anywhere,<br>Yeah they love me everywhere,_

The boy in the wheelchair's voice rang out nicely. The glee club kids had appeared out of nowhere. All of a sudden, it seemed like there was a boom box and the club was singing. They had nice harmony and style. I was tempted to start singing with them, but decided not to. Even though the music was egging me on, I refused it. The Glee kids were all wearing the same thing. I thought it was actually a good performance, but obviously no one else really did. I noticed Rachel Berry and from what I could hear of her, she sounded exactly like she had described herself: amazing. However, it did make it a bit less amazing, considering she was the one that called herself that. Another boy's voice rang out suddenly. He was unusually tall too, but a good rapper.

_I used to cop in Harlem,  
>All of my Dominicans<br>Right there up on Broadway,  
>Brought me back to that McDonald's,<br>Took it to my stash spot,  
>5-60 State street,<br>Catch me in the kitchen like a Simmons whipping Pastry,  
><em>

Then three girls came running out dressed in the same attire of the other kids. I noticed that Quinn was one of them. I could hear several girls' vocals loudly and clearly. It was a beautiful arrangement overall. I only wished it wasn't about New York, the place I just left. It brought back memories of living there. During the song, Quinn caught my eye for a moment. She nodded a bit as if to say _See? Glee Club is not so bad._ I had to agree to that, but it still didn't change my mindset.

I couldn't sing anymore. Not anymore. I couldn't. I wasn't even that talented. I didn't belong in Glee Club. Then the chorus rang out.

_In New York,  
>Concrete jungle where dreams are made of,<br>There's nothing you can't do,  
>Now you're in New York,<br>These streets will make you feel brand new,  
>The lights will inspire you,<br>Let's hear it for New York, New York, New York_

I wanted to sing along, but I didn't.

Instead, I packed up my lunch bag and fled to my next class.

The rest of the school day went by fast until Spanish class came. Even though I was only a sophomore, I got placed in Advanced Spanish class, which put me with the juniors. I had always liked Spanish and I liked learning new languages. My father had been great with languages. He had spoken French, Spanish, and Japanese and whenever I brought Spanish homework home from school and he was home too, he would help me with it. I liked that because my father was away at work a lot of the time, so it was nice to bond with him. It was enjoyable and nice, I had fun. But it's always the things we love most that bring us down in the end.

Spanish had come easily for me. I always had a good ear for music, so that must have helped when I learned it. I've already gotten lost in the school numerous times, even with directions; however, I made it to Spanish just on time. Actually, a moment later I would have been late, but I was there and that's what counts. Quickly, I walked into the class, binder in hand, and was about to make my way to an empty seat, when the teacher saw me and a look of aha crossed his face. It was the same, gelled hair teacher I had seen when exiting from Ms. Pillsbury's office. I really hope, desperately hoped, that he only thought I was there because I was a new student. At least, he introduced me as one after he introduced himself as Mr. Schuster.

"Class it seems like we have a new student," Mr. Schuster announced. "Everyone this is Abby Johnson." A few kids looked up at me, but not that many. Most were passing notes or just outright talking.

I quickly settled down into a seat.

Then I looked around the room curiously. It looked the same as any other room. Students hunched over in their chairs, only sort of paying attention to the Spanish lesson. I was listening into the lesson though. I wanted to get off to a good start, maybe that way my life would be a breeze. The rest of the year might just float by, easily and fluidly like a stream. And I could just follow it as it floated away. And I'll be at peace. I'll be content.

And I'll just have tomorrow.

* * *

><p>The cold water pored into me, feeling like a thousand tiny needle thudding into my skin. It felt nice and invigorating and it reminded me of a trip with my where my family went white water rafting. Showers were like that. They were refreshing for me. Like a wake up call, but the good kind. My soaked hair had turned a darker shaded of red because of the water and it splattered against my skin in wet clumps. I massaged into my hair the shampoo and conditioner quickly meanwhile, I sang.<p>

I always sang in the shower. It felt like the ownly place where I could let my voice ring out. While I was under the faucet with the water pouring into me, I could barely think. The water was like that. It was distracting, so I didn't have to think about the bad. I could just focus on the dull thudding and use that as a rhythm.

_The sun'll come out  
>Tomorrow<br>Bet your bottom dollar  
>That tomorrow<br>There'll be sun!  
><em>

I could just imagine it, my beautiful golden sunshine. Just a few inches away from my grasp.

_Just thinkin' about  
>Tomorrow<br>Clears away the cobwebs,  
>And the sorrow<br>'Til there's none!_

_When I'm stuck a day_  
><em>That's gray,<em>  
><em>And lonely,<em>  
><em>I just stick out my chin<em>  
><em>And Grin,<em>  
><em>And Say,<em>  
><em>Oh!<em>

Sometimes I wish it was that easy. That I could just stick out my chin, grin, and just be happy. To actually be positive and overall well cheerful. I would give anything to think that. I've been given enough gray days. But today, tomorrow, I'm going to try my best to make them sunny.

_The sun'll come out  
>Tomorrow<br>So ya gotta hang on  
>'Til tomorrow<br>Come what may  
>Tomorrow! Tomorrow!<br>I love ya Tomorrow!  
>You're always<br>A day  
>A way!<em>

After a while I got out of the shower. I was still dripping wet, so after I dried myself up, I got on my clothes for the day. Quickly with my hair still dripping wet, I opened the small bathroom door and opened it to the rest of the house.

Well, I guess you can't exactly call it house.

Ever since I moved hear, I've been in living in a motel. American Family Motel, in fact. My aunt worked there. She was the manager of it and all, so that was where she lived. Our room was one of the nicer ones in the motel. It had three small rooms and a bathroom. Actually, my room was more of a closet that a twin bed was shoved into along with a few drawings and posters plastered onto the wall. It was okay there though. I was actually fine with it. Sure, it was one of the bigger changes from New York, but that didn't matter. I liked the feel of the room. It felt closed and confined, but again, I was okay with that. I had to adjust and I did.

However as I walked outside of my room to the main small room, I realized that I had forgotten that sometimes people don't adjust. Can't adjust.

It was my aunt. She was at our small two person kitchen table, which really wasn't bigger than a bedside table. She was sitting there, just sitting there. Her eyes were blank and staring. Tearful. She had been crying and still was.

I looked at her in shock for a moment unsure what to do. I was not the best comforter, especially not in a situation like. Yet, I felt like I should do something, like I was supposed to do something. However, I didn't know what I was supposed to do. My aunt was strange, crazy yet stern. Overall, a tough nut to crack. She was quite like me and dealt with the loss like me. I always forget that, but it's the truth. I think that's why she broke the silence her sobs had left first. She knew that I couldn't.

"I heard you singing, in the shower. Your voice carried out here," she began; her voice was croaky and scratchy. "You sound so much like her, your mother. So much. For a moment I thought it was her. Or her ghost, that came back to play one final concert for me. I always loved it when we were kids and she would give impromptu concerts for the family. I never told her though. I was kid back then and so was she. I never once congratulated her about her musical accomplishment. In truth, I was jealous of her. She was amazing anywhere and I was just normal. When she was on stage, at home, and even while singing in the shower, she still captured the audience's attention. I loved her voice, but I never told her." And then my aunt turned to me and looked straight into me like she was looking at my soul. "I'm going to tell you though. You are your mother. Your voice is like a copy of hers. And she had the most amazing voice. So do you Abby. Please don't waste that talent. Don't let people like me back then bring you down. I just wished I had been able to tell your mother that before-before…"

She stopped there, but she didn't continue I know what she would say and I didn't want to complete the sentence either. But I was listening to all she said and I understood. I understood what she said.

So that's what made my mind. And that's how I knew what I'd be doing today at school.

I wanted to go to school again.

* * *

><p><strong>Review, review review! Please! :)<strong>


	3. Chapter 3 Undertake

**Hello all! I've finally updated! Sorry it has taken so long, but I've been quite busy with stuff I care not to tell you all about. Anyway, I hope some people are reading this story and reading. I really appreciate reviews. They keep me writing! I hope that people are liking this and don't worry Abby is going to join Glee club soon! Next chapter probably! So keep reading, and reviewing, and I'll promise to keep updating.**

**Also, for those people who don't read these author notes, please**_** r****ead this nex**_**_t bit_.**

**This story is going to be mainly Abby point of view, but it will also be Sam point of view and even third person. I might rarely make a point of view from another glee club member or maybe Ms. Pillsbury, but not that much. Anyway, I'll always put the person's name in bold that will be from that perspective. If it is a third person point of view, well you should be able to tell that. Anyway, for example right below it says Chapter 3 Undertake and then a space afterwards it says Sam in bold. This means that its Sam's point of view. I figure you guys can all figure the rest of it out, like later on when it says Abby in bold and that means it Abby's perspective. I hope I'm making this clear because I don't want to be confusing. I'm only doing it like this because I feel like it looks cheesy when someone puts "third person perspective" and what not. Actually it doesn't really matter for me, but I'm just going to put it like this. **

**Anyway, read and review! I hope you like it.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 3 Undertake<strong>

**Sam**

_Oh every time I close my eyes  
>I see my name in shining lights<br>A different city every night oh  
>I swear the world better prepare<br>For when I'm a billionaire  
>Oh oooh oh oooh for when I'm a Billionaire<br>Oh oooh oh oooh for when I'm a Billionaire_

_I wanna be a billionaire so freaking bad._

The last note rang out from the guitar purely. It ended the song nicely.

As I looked up from my guitar and I saw the rest of the guys. They were all in Glee. Each one of them from seemingly different backgrounds, yet they were connected through one central thing: Glee Club. Most importantly it was the music that joined them all into this strange club. This club was different than anything at my old school. There was more to it that meets the eyes. Maybe Glee club wouldn't be so bad here, even if the club seemed to have a terrible rep.

It might not be as bad as it sounds.

Or maybe it is.

**Abby**

You'd think it be easy to join the Glee Club, but really it was difficult. There were obstacles. Admittedly, most of those obstacles were internal.

I didn't believe in myself enough to go for it. It wasn't that I was necessarily scared, but I was hiding behind that excuse. I didn't want to think about the real reason. The true reason.

So I told myself that I couldn't perform on a stage. I would make a fool of myself. I would mess up the song lyrics. I would hit the wrong notes. I'd be sharp. I'd be flat. I had the worse case of stage fright ever. It wasn't just that I felt I was a lousy singer, despite my aunts encouragements, I was more scared that I wouldn't do it right. That there would be something wrong with me like there always was. I didn't feel confident about it. In fact, I had the confidence the size of a peanut. It was just something inside me telling me, convincing me that I wouldn't do it right. That I wouldn't be enough. That I would let people down. My aunt. Myself. My mother. I didn't want to risk ruining my mother's legacy just because I wanted to join some silly little club.

Actually there was plenty of other clubs I could join, that didn't involve singing. My mother had liked art class; I could just do that instead. I would still be connected to her. Maybe not as closely as I would by singing, but there would still be that connection. That chord tying me to her that everyday I felt was loosening. Some days I couldn't just mentally remember her face or my father's. Of course, I would quickly go home and find the picture of them under my pillow, but it wasn't enough to being close to her. Though, if I sang I would have more than just a sight connection with her, I would have sound too.

I hadn't talked to Quinn in a long time; well I haven't even seen her, since the Glee Club's lunchtime performance. I didn't know if I should find her and tell I was thinking about trying out or not.

I had also considered putting my name on the Glee Club signup list, but the list was definitely defaced. I had gone by the list several times, and many of those times I stopped in front of it for a few moments, thinking about whether or not I should put my name down. I never decided to though, I was worried if I put my actual name up there it would in turn become a hit list. And I would end up getting a slushy in the face or worse. Even though I didn't really care up popularity, not after I realized that popularity was the least of my worries, I still didn't want to be publicly humiliated.

Yes, I was like everyone else out there. A part of me wanted to be that popular girl, the girl I used to be. Who cared about texting and Facebook, I still did of course, but just not as much. It wasn't as important to me as it once was. Besides, I've seen one of the Glee kids get a slushy facial and it did not look pleasant. I didn't necessarily want to be popular, but I didn't want to be an outcast either. I was sort of just in between.

That's why I didn't join Glee until the situation occurred in which I felt like I had to.

It was Quinn and it was the worst thing that could have possibly happened: she heard me sing.

Now I hadn't been planning on joining Glee Club anytime soon. I wanted to think it over. Plan it out in my head. Really decide if basically destroying any hopes of a good, normal reputation here was worth a singing club. I wanted to do it for my mom, but I didn't know if it was worth it. That always seemed to be the question with me.

"Are you the new girl?" That was an ever present question; a question which a burly football player was asking as he stood in front of me, slushy in hand. He had short, thin hair. There was nothing different about him that I saw. He was just another student milling around, except he was talking to me.

"Yes?" I answered but it was more of a question. Before the word even left my lips, the football player brought up the slushy and it was dispelled into my face.

The coldness of it hit me like a rush of adrenaline. Only, it wasn't the pleasant kind. It felt like instantly my body temperature dropped several degrees and it didn't seem like it would return to its normal temperature anytime soon. The icy chunks and blue dye flavoring dripped down my body soaking me. My hair was drenched and already starting to get frizzy, undoing the hard work I put into it try to straighten it. My outfit was completely ruined. Stained most likely beyond any possible hope of making it clean again. I had liked this shirt. That thought particularly made me mad. It wasn't the only one though; I also was infuriated by the fact that everyone, all of my peers at this new school had just seen me get "slushied". I then turned to the football player, the bully, who did this to me. I looked at him questioningly, outraged actually, but mostly unsure why he just did this to me.

"Welcome to McKinley High!" he said, with a tone that actually wasn't very welcoming. "Unless want to get slushied again, I suggest you stay away from the glee club." I realized now that maybe I had spent too much time considering putting my name down on the list. Also I had stupidly questioned some of the students here what Glee club was like. I guess the football player must have heard about someone asking about Glee club and wanted to put an end to anyone joining. And he probably just did, considering that Glee club didn't sound so fun now. The boy did what he came for though. Afterwards, he stalked off, walked down the halls like he couldn't give a care that he probably reduced my chances of making friends here to absolutely nothing. Those types of people infuriated me. The kind that think they can get whatever they want, do whatever they want because they're popular. This antagonized me almost as much as the fact that I still had to do with the slushy that was dripping down me.

Quickly I hurried to next bathroom and because the passing time was already over, most kids were hopefully heading to class. Wherever they really were, didn't really matter to me, I was just happy no one was in the bathroom. Even as I was trying to dry my stained clothes and trying to wash the slushy out of my hair, I couldn't help but think that the boy that did this to mean was a jerk. He was mean.

In my head, one song sprung out at me. Its title was that very word Mean. I started humming along to the invisible tune.

_You, with your words like knives  
>And swords and weapons that you use against me<br>You have knocked me off my feet again  
>Got me feeling like a nothing<br>You, with your voice like nails on a chalkboard  
>Calling me out when I'm wounded<br>You picking on the weaker man_

Well you can take me down with just one single blow  
>but you don't know, what you don't know...<p>

I hadn't even realized it but quickly the humming had changed to listing the lyrics in my head to actually saying them, singing them. So when the chorus finally came, I was singing full on. I figured no one would be able to hear me. I had already checked the stalls and so I knew that there was no one was in there. I didn't sing loudly, just enough so I could hear myself.

_Someday I'll be living in a big ol' city  
>And all you're ever going to be is mean<br>Someday I'll be big enough so you can't hit me  
>And all you're ever going to be is mean<br>Why you gotta be so mean?  
><em>

_You, with your switchin-_

I was cut off when I saw a slightly familiar blonde. She had her hair up in a ponytail though and a Cheerios cheerleader outfit on. I guess I should have known, someone as pretty as she was must be a cheerleader. It was strange though, she had mentioned Glee been a part of it, and yet she was a cheerleader. It was like she had to different perspectives on life. A full spectrum of point of views. It was kind of like me. I had had that perspective. The popular girl perspective. Now I was different more of an outcast, especially after that slushy bath. I couldn't believe that she'd want to talk to me. I was also embarrassed; actually humiliated that she had heard me sing. But she didn't looked surprised, more like she was pleasantly shocked, she actually looked happy. A slight smile flitted on her face a moment before she spoke.

"You can sing," she exclaimed. She slowly came close to me. Looking saddened at the state of me. All drenched with slushy. "We're having tryouts soon for Glee soon, you should stop by. But before you do, you might want to get changed," she joked lightly.

"Yeah, I can see that," I said, a hint of dark melancholy fell into my tone and I could tell that Quinn noticed it.

She looked at me with understanding in her eyes, "I know how a slushy can feel," she began. I was a bit surprised that a cheerleader has ever gotten slushied, and I think she also caught to my befuddlement. "Last year, I was…well I was pregnant." She looked at me carefully when she this, gauging how I would react, but I didn't really react I was processing what she just said. "I'm actually so sort of surprised you haven't heard about it. It was big news last year…and all of that news because of one mistake." Her voice got sad as her eyes had a look of distance in them. "Anyway, I _know_ how it feels to get slushied. You don't think that once everyone heard about me being pregnant that I was thrown out of the Cheerios, out of the "popular crowd"? Well I was. Completely. Now I'm just trying to get back on top. But you don't want to here about my person plights, do you? Still, to tell you one, I did get slushied. I know it's humiliating, mortifying even. Not to mention sticky. Getting a slushy to the face is one of the most embarrassing things that can happen at McKinley. It's also something that happens regularly to you if you're in Glee Club."

"Well I really don't think I'll have to worry about that. I don't think…well actually I have no idea what I'm going to do. But Quinn, here's the deal. You don't know how much I want to join Glee Club, but I just can't. I don't think I could deal with all this drama and harassment," I explained. I had all the drama in my life already. I didn't need more.

Quinn merely shrugged her shoulders.

"You get over the drama," she assured.

There was a moment before I finally spoke, "I'm sorry Quinn, but I'm not going to join Glee club."

And then I walked out of the bathroom, as I had cleaned up my outfit considerably. Still, I left Quinn there looking slightly disgruntled.

I love running. The rush of adrenaline combined with the sheer astonishment of the wind in your hair and the burn in your legs. My hair would be blown back completely, giving it that amazing wind blown look. With my red hair, I could imagine my hair was like flames dancing in the wind. Of course, I was not on fire so that comparison would not be true. Still it was amazing to run. Eventually a burn would grow into your legs, telling you to stop running. To stop trying. To just give up and get a drink of water. It would be easy when running to take the easy way out, but that didn't matter to me. I would keep running and keep chasing those pavements. I would never stop running until I reached the finish line.

I could tell the track coach was some what impressed by me. I didn't come in first place when I ran, but I came close. This wasn't my first time doing track. In New York, I had done track (my school wasn't in New York City, but close). I also had done cheerleading and several more extracurricular activities. I had always loved track though. Once I pulled on the athletic shorts and ties my tennis shoes, I was ready. I was expecting that burn that would be soon to come and that rush. I loved to run because while running you could only just run and you wouldn't be thinking about anything else but reaching the finish line.

Hairs were plastered to my neck with sweat as I finished my run. I probably wasn't the most pleasant sight, all sweating and red in the face, so I quickly walked to the locker rooms. Once I was changed and once I smelled nicely, I came out of the locker room. I moved to my locker swiftly and pulled out all my books (almost dropping them because I had to carry so many). I was a klutz that much was true. Despite that I loved running, and was actually good at it, and despite that I actually was a very good dancer, I was still very, very clumsy. My family had always teased me about my clumsiness, saying that I could trip over air and what not. Even though, I protested that thought, truthfully they were completely right. I was a major klutz.

Nevertheless, I owned up to my clumsiness. Even though it was one of the things I hated about myself most.

But that's just sometimes how it is.

You have to accept things.


	4. Chapter 4 With a Treasure Chest

**Chapter 4 …Third The One With A Treasure Chest**

All of the Glee kids, along with Mr. Schuester, watched the bell carefully; in fact, their eyes didn't stray from the clock for a long while. All of them wanted desperately for someone to walk through the choir room door announcing that at least one person had the guts to try and audition for Glee. The funny thing was that that person wouldn't have to just be able stand up in front of people and perform, that was a part of it, but not the main problem. The main problem was that anyone person that even auditioned would have to own the guts to audition all the while knowing the trouble, and slushies, which were going to be thrown in their way. And they all knew that took a lot of guts. Still, the Glee kids needed something good to happen so they all wished that someone would come. And considering the Glee kids' hopes had already been dashed when nobody clapped at the lunch time performance, if no one came to audition it would only make things worse.

So they all were very nervous. Some anxiously tapped their fingers, while others just looked depressed. Rachel's expression was strained, but she was trying to act like everything was normal. Everyone was actually. They all didn't want to admit that if they didn't get someone to join that they couldn't compete, and after coming so close last time, they couldn't bare it if they were unable to compete just because they didn't have enough people.

The big hand on the clock was coming daringly close to the twelve and soon it would reach it, so it would be five' o'clock. Unless someone came in the next few minutes, the entire Glee club would know that their efforts didn't make a difference, even though the guys tried so hard to get Sam into Glee. They had all been thoroughly convinced that Sam would join, but from the way things looked, nobody was coming. Finn especially had been hoping for Sam to come. Quinn had been hoping that Abby would come. Rachel was hoping that Sunshine wouldn't come, and she was the only one whose wish came true.

By now everyone was facing the clock. Staring at it. Hoping for some miracle to happen right then and there, but of course nothing happened.

As the clocked ticked forward once more, Rachel finally decided to speak.

"Well, hate to break it to you, but it doesn't look like anyone's going to be joining us, so we should just call it a day," she stated as she got up out of her chair and walked over to where Mr. Schuester, Finn, Mercedes, Puck, Santana, and Brittany were, by the piano. Despite the depressing news she said, she didn't sound overall too depressed. Everyone just took this as meaning that she was optimistic that someone else might still join the next day, or next week for that matter.

Rachel hadn't told anyone about what she had done yet. She knew it wouldn't go over very well, people would be extremely mad at her. Still, she told herself that she had to do what she did. She was helping everyone out in the end. That was what she kept telling herself. Sunshine would just end up taking solos from people who deserved them…such as herself. Rachel was extremely hopeful that no one would figure out what she had done. So she figured that the quicker they left the less chance that Sunshine might still come despite being sent to a crack-house. She didn't want anyone to become suspicious of her either. The last thing Rachel needed was for everyone to know what she had done to the poor girl.

"We said three to five it's only four fifty eight," Mr. Schue protested, though he knew he was fighting a loosing battle. He had basically given up hope of someone coming, just like everyone else. Even though he wanted to believe that someone would come, he knew that hoping that would be fruitless.

"Just wait my buddy Sam is going to tryout. He totally idolizes me," Finn said confidently. He had been convinced of this, but not was starting to wonder if this was really true. He desperately hoped that it was true. Besides, Sam was a really good singer. He would have been a really good addition to the Glee club. He might have even taken a little of the pressure off of Finn that he had because he was the lead male singer. And Finn was under a lot of pressure. Not as much as last year with the baby scare and all, but still a lot. There was Glee club stress, home stress, girlfriend stress…Overall, there were a lot of contributing factors to his stress.

"Face it Finn," Kurt said as he started to walk past Finn, then he turned around to face him. "You're no longer the quarterback. You're not the pied piper anymore. No one's following you around thinking everything you do is cool." After saying this Kurt walked out of the choir room. Kurt was also very depressed, so he didn't have the energy to pretend for Finn that he was still cool.

"What about the Sunshine girl?" Mercedes asked Rachel hopefully. "I thought you said she could sing."

"I guess she didn't want to hang out with us _losers_," Rachel said, emphasizing the word losers. Rachel then steered Mercedes away and the two of them started to walk out of the room. Rachel's plan had gone perfectly, nobody expected a thing.

"What about you Quinn? You said you found a girl that could sing," Mr. Schuester asked. _Maybe third time's the charm_, he thought.

Quinn got up from her chair slightly depressed.

"I tried, I really did, but I don't think she's going to join Glee Club any time soon," Quinn said honestly.

Mr. Schuester was even more depressed now that all three of the possible candidates had declined the opportunity to join Glee club. He really had been expecting at least one of them to want to join.

"Well, at least you tried Quinn," Mr. Schuester said. He knew that even though he was depressed about the situation the kids were probably much more depressed because it was ultimately their job to find students that could potentially be a part of Glee. So he knew to at least try and encourage the kids to keep it up. "Maybe next time," he said.

"Yeah maybe," Quinn repeated, but with a very doubtful tone and expression.

Then the Glee kids, who were still in the choir room, got up from their chairs and started to leave the band room, leaving Mr. Schuester there by himself to think. But before Quinn, could leave Mr. Schuester spoke.

"Quinn what was the name of the girl you were trying to get to join?" he asked.

"Abby," Quinn said. "Abby Johnson."

Mr. Schuester nodded and thought for a moment while Quinn walked out of the Choir room.

Abby Johnson was a new student, Mr. Schuester new this much. Actually, that would mean that all three kids were new students. _The kids that don't know much about the Glee club are probably going to be the only ones willing to join it_, he thought grimly. _And even then, the new kids don't want to join._ Mr. Schuester knew there had to be away to show the news kids that Glee club wasn't that bad. He figured that the boys would try and convince Sam and Rachel was going to try and convince Sunshine, and she was Rachel so she could be pretty convincing. And then there was Quinn and Abby. Considering that Mr. Schuester saw Abby in Emma's office, he assumed Emma might know more about this girl.

So that's where he would start.

* * *

><p><strong>Abby<strong>

My grandparents, on my mother's side, died when I was younger. That's one of the reasons I went to live with my aunt. She was only the relative that was willing and able to take me in, so she did. My grandparents would have taken me in if they were alive, but they weren't so they didn't. As for my dad's parents, they never had a good relationship with my father, and therefore not a good one with me. However, I had a good relationship with my mother's parents. They died of natural causes. They were old, older than most and eventually their time just came, but I wasn't sad when they died. I mean, I was, I cried and I wished that it hadn't happened, but when they died, I knew it was just meant to be.

It was ultimately my grandmother herself who let me come to this conclusion. My grandmother was a nice woman, the kind of person you would imagine the stereotypical grandmother was. And not to seem cliché, but she was exactly like that type of grandma. She knitted, she quilted, she baked apple pies, and basically everything else you could think of that a grandmother would do. She was also a strong believer in family and friends. She believed that as long as we were a strong, tight, and loving family we could survive through anything. She had passed that thought onto my mom and then from my mom onto me. So I knew when she passed away, a few years after my grandfather, that she wouldn't want me to be terribly sad. She would want me to just remember that love is love, and it's always there during the tough. Mostly, it can be found in family and friends.

She taught me that, and even though I believed her when her time came, I don't know if at this current day that I believe the truth of what she said.

Actually, there were a few things that I believed in lately. Among those few things were facts, cold hard facts, such as the one that I'm starting to hate my life here at McKinley high.

Well, I guess that more of an opinion.

Another opinion was that I changed. I don't exactly know when I started to change, but I did change. It was not immediately after finding out the news about the crash, and neither was it when I moved to Lima. It was instead somewhere in between. But it definitely did happen. I changed from this positive happy girl to someone much more sad and depressed. That disheartened girl wasn't me though. I would never have described myself as being depressed; it would have been the opposite in fact. If I had to choose three adjectives that best fit me, I probably would have picked smart, nice, and funny. The type of things people actually want to be like. I used to believe that I was those things. I used to see the brightness in everything, but I just don't know if I still do. Especially not after everything that has happened. It was simple enough though, the answer to why I changed. The answer to why I know longer like blue. It was the fact that I. had to change and adapt. In life you have to change and adapt. You have to adjust to your new climates and surroundings. It was necessary in life. After all they do call it the Human Race. And I, just like everyone else, had to race. So I raced and to reach the finish line, I changed.

I'm also not saying that I liked how I changed. I would much rather be that girl I once was. People used to call me pretty and popular. I may still be "pretty" but I was no longer popular. The slushy in the face taught me that much. I have yet to make friends with someone and like my grandmother said; friends and family are what matter most. So yes, I would _so _much rather be that girl, with friends and family. But at the end of the day, I wasn't that girl any more. Maybe it was for the best because I was still similar to that girl. My characteristics and traits were still similar. And in the end, I was just another student at another school racing through the halls. Ultimately, racing through life.

And today, like any other, I would be racing just the same and just as fast.

Quickly, I put my books neatly away in my locker. I still needed to put something in my locker. Everyone else seemed to have someone in their locker whether it was pictures of friends or random posters, they all seemed to have something that spiced up there locker while my locker was still very bland. However, my locker decoration was the very least of my problems. Instead I had to worry about homework and my classes. So I got out the other books that I would need for my next class, history, and then I started on my way. I turned so suddenly I ran right into another person.

He had blonde hair. The style of his hair reminded me vaguely of a Justin Beiber haircut, but his hair was different than a Beiber cut. Instantly I noticed his lips. They were rather big in proportion to his face and also very noticeable. I would describe them as being fishy looking almost. He was tall; I'd say around six feet. I was pretty tall for a girl, so I was almost as tall as him. He had the build of a football player and the coat fitting of one. He also had green eyes, but a darker green so they almost looked brown. I remember him from Spanish class, but I was ashamed to admit I couldn't recall his name.

As I had turned, I had run straight, smack-dab into him. Right away, all my books, and his too, fell to the ground. There was a mass of mixed papers and books strewn across the floor between us. I looked at him in shock.

"I'm so sorry," I apologized hurriedly. "It was my fault. I'm very clumsy."

"It's okay," he said with a slight grin as he bent down and started picking up the stuff we dropped. I quickly started to pick my things up too. I was slightly worried that I'd be late for my next class, but mostly I was embarrassed that my clumsiness was showed yet again. "Here this is yours," he said as he passed me a book, which was mine and was needed for my next class.

"Thanks," I said. Then I got up and tried to organize the papers that flew out of my binder (actually I just stuffed the extra papers in my binder). I looked up at the boy who doing the same thing with his stuff. "Again, I'm really sorry. I was in rush to get to my class, which…" I quickly looked up at the clock. "I'm probably going to be late to. Anyway, I guess it was nice to meet you…"

"Sam," he said filling in my black. "And I guess it was nice to meet you too." He still had the infectious smile on his face. "What's your name?"

"Abby," I answered with a soft smile of my own and then I realized the hallways were starting to clear and the late bell was about to ring. "Anyhow, I should be going. Actually, I'm going to be late. Goodbye," I said quickly before I started walking away.

"Bye," he called after me. I turned slightly as I walked away, giving him a small smile.

* * *

><p>Will Schuester walked down the halls of McKinley. He hoped desperately that he might be able to get one person to join Glee club. He didn't know if it was possible, but he was still going to try. That's why he continued on to the counselor's office. Well that and he also wanted to see Emma.<p>

"Emma, do you know the girl Abby Johnson?" Will Schuester asked as he sat down in a chair in her office.

Ms. Pillsbury froze for a moment. It wasn't very long, but it was still long enough to be noticeable. She froze because yes she did know Abby, but she didn't know why Will was asking her about Abby. For a moment, she thought Will might be asking her about why Abby was here that day and she couldn't tell him that, but then she realized why he was asking her. She knew that Will would only be asking her about the girl if he wanted her to join Glee club. After all, he didn't ask her about any other kids than his Glee kids or the kids that affect them. Still, Ms. Pillsbury didn't say anything, in case her guess was wrong.

"Of course, I do," she said pleasantly, "She's a new student and as the counselor here, I'm obligated to know her." Ms. Pillsbury was starting to wonder if her guess was wrong or right. She hoped it was right. "She seemed nice. Why do you ask?"

"Quinn was trying to get her to join Glee club," Will answered.

"Really?" Emma asked, suddenly excited. A smile began to form on her lips because she knew her guess was right. She also knew it would be good for Abby to join the Glee club, considering the girl's past and how positive Glee club can be to the students. Well, that was when they weren't getting slushied or stealing each other's boyfriends and girlfriends. "Can she sing?"

"I haven't heard her, but Quinn said she was very good."

"Has she already auditioned? Is she a part of Glee club now?" Emma asked.

"No," Will said, sounding disheartened suddenly. "Actually, no one has auditioned for Glee club yet. Not Sunshine Corazon, Sam Evans, or Abby Johnson. The kids were all depressed."

"Sure, it was just the kids who were depressed?" Emma asked, noticing Will's melancholy tone.

"No, it wasn't just them, it's just that, they try so hard, we all do, and then this. No one wants to join."

"Eventually someone's going to come around, Will. You got to believe that," Emma assured, though unsure of it herself.

Will sighed. He still didn't know what to do. He was hoping though that Emma might be able to tell him something about the new kids.

"Have you talked with Abby?" Will asked.

"Yes, actually I have, on her first day, but since then not at all," Emma said, not telling him that Abby was actually supposed to talk to her soon or that Abby was even supposed to come for sessions with her regularly. "Listen Will, I've talked with Abby and her aunt too for a minimal amount of time, but one thing I do know is that Glee club is a good place for friends and family. I think any new kid would be lucky to have the Glee club as family. Abby right now is new and she probably doesn't have a great lot of friends. I think it would be good for her to join the Glee where there's family and friends. Strictly because she's a new kid."

"Okay…" Will said, elongating the last syllable. He had come to Emma for advice about how to get new kids, primarily Abby, to join Glee club. Instead it seemed Emma was the one that really wanted to Abby to join Glee club.

"Here, I'll talk to her for you," Emma said. "I have a feeling that I can get her to join."

"Thanks," said Will. Emma only nodded. She really hoped that Glee club would be good for Abby. After all, sometimes the right kind of drama can be good.

* * *

><p>Sunshine Corazon was an amazing performer. All of the Glee kids knew this, even Rachel, especially Rachel. They saw her perform <em>Listen<em> and boy did they listen. Her voice would have been a wonderful addition to the Glee club, but of course, she was never going to be added to Glee. She was already snatched up by the raptors at Vocal Adrenaline. And the main reason for this was one Rachel Berry.

"I can't believe she joined Vocal Adrenaline," Tina said, shocked like everyone else at the news of Sunshine going to Carmel High School.

"Traitor," Santana spat out.

"This is all Rachel's fault," Quinn said. "We should never have let her try and recruit someone."

"It's not like you had a much better time recruiting anyone Quinn," Santana pointed out. Quinn then glared daggers at Santana, while she merely smirked. But the smirk was wiped away as she and everyone realized that no one was going to join Glee. Not Sunshine. Not Sam. Not Abby. No one. They were all realizing this, and that was right when Rachel walked in to the door.

Everyone looked up at her and there was silence. Everybody had decided they were going to give her the cold shoulder and to Rachel that would be the worst punishment. Rachel was all about attention, she needed it. To not give her attention would be terrible for her. Finn was still going to talk to her. He was her boyfriend, he sort of had to, but nobody else would talk to her. Not until they forgive her for what she did and forgiveness takes a long time. Rachel was about to endure many glares and a lot of silence until they forgave her. They needed to stop being mad. Who knows how long that would take?

* * *

><p><strong>Abby<strong>

I received a note earlier in the day. It was one of those notes that they gave to kids, telling them where they were going to go after school whether it was riding a bus, walking, or going to friend's house, but it didn't say any of those things. I wished that it had though; going to a friend's house, if I had any, would be nice. It actually said that I should go to Ms. Pillsbury's office once school is over. I didn't exactly want to go to her office, considering the last time I was there it didn't exactly go well. But I went there anyway.

After the final bell rang, I put my stuff away into my backpack and I walked to Ms. PillsburyI dragged my feet as I walked into her office.

"Hello Ms. Pillsbury," I said lightly.

"Hello Abby," she said whilst smiling. "Please sit down." I did as she said, even if it was a little hesitantly. "So Abby, I have some important to tell you." I nodded. "The Glee club is auditioning for spots and I think you should join."

I raised my eyebrow in question.

"Why would you want me to join Glee club? All of the kids in Glee club are bullied," I asked.

"Well, despite that the kids do get bullied… a lot, Glee club is also a very fun and welcoming group," Ms. Pillsbury assured.

"You know that there is a rumor floating around that Rachel Berry sent the new girl, Sunshine Corazon, to a crack house. I'm also a new girl, what if she did that to me?" I questioned. Rachel Berry didn't exactly seem welcoming; would the rest of the glee kids be any different? I was beginning to doubt it.

"Yes, yes I know that happened, but that's Rachel for you," Ms. Pillsbury explained jokingly. Personally, this Rachel girl was already getting on my nerves. Ms. Pillsbury then looked at me with a determined expression on her face. "Glee Club is a place for family Abby. Family and friends. The Glee kids are a strong, cohesive bunch, and personally they remind exactly of a family. Honestly Abby, right now you need family. I know you might say that you're fine and that you have enough family with you and your aunt, but-"

"It's not just my aunt and I. It's my brother too. He may not be here, in Lima, but he's still part of the family," I said defiantly.

"Okay," she said, looking slight unsure, "but you still need more people in your life then just your aunt and your brother. The Glee kids would welcome you into the family, if you let it. Don't worry about Rachel."

"You can't just replace family," I said, struggling to let the words out.

"No, your right, you can't just replace family, but you can fill in the gaps with your friends. Then your friends turn into your family," said Ms. Pillsbury convincingly.

Friends. I haven't had a real friend for a long time. I used to have friends. I used to have a lot of friends. However, I don't think I ever had one best friend. That's what I missed out on. One, singular person who when asked would automatically say that I was there best friend. For the majority of my life, I just floated around groups of friends. I was a cheerleader, so I was popular, but I still didn't have a BFF.

It would be nice to have friends.

There was a moment of silence where I just sat there. I looked away from Ms. Pillsbury. I tried thinking about something else, but I couldn't. That was the thing about me. No matter how much I thought about something else, the thing that was bugging me always came back. For example, I was trying not to cry, in my head I was telling myself that I wasn't going to cry, but my face was starting to heat up and tears were starting to build up anyway. I couldn't cry though. I wasn't going to cry.

"My mom was a singer," I finally said. "Do you think I could be a singer too?"

"Yes," Ms. Pillsbury said with a pleasant smile.

"Then I guess I need to talk to Mr. Schuester, don't I?" I asked as I stood up.

"Yes Abby, yes you do," Ms. Pillsbury said.

I think I actually smiled as I started to leave her office. Maybe counseling wasn't so bad after, you always will need some guidance.

But that was right about when I turned back to Ms. Pillsbury.

"I want to join Glee club. I'm going to join Glee club," I said as I walked back into her office. "But, I can only do it if they don't know about my parents and why I'm here."

I could tell Ms. Pillsbury wasn't happy about this news. She actually looked very displeased, so displeased that she was about to voice her opinion.

"Abby I don't think that would be wise. You don't want to start Glee club on a lie. It happened last year with Quinn Fabray and it didn't turn out well," she said. I noticed how even the teachers gossiped at this school.

"Yes, it might not have, but I'm not Quinn and I'm not pregnant. No one will be hurt by lie," I said. "So just let me join and promise me you won't tell anyone about my parents."

"I can't say anything to them Abby. I'm a counselor, I can't share the secrets of my patients with anyone, unless it's necessary for the student's health and wellbeing," she said.

"Okay," I said. I was healthy, I was well, so that would mean that she couldn't tell anyone what I say in that room. "I'm going to go find Mr. Schuester now. And Ms. Pillsbury, thank you. If it means anything, I think I'll be willing to come for counseling sessions. I think maybe I do need them."

"Well," Ms. Pillsbury said, smiling almost sadly. "My door is always open."

I only nodded. But that's the only thing you can do sometimes. You can just nod and lead on with your life. Be optimistic and hope that things _will_ turn out to be good. Sometimes you have to be that happy, positive girl, the girl I used to be and maybe still am, at least a little bit. I could hope that things will turn out well. And I will hope. And I will wish for bright future. I will make a bright future. A future full of laughter and friends, family and love. And of course music, most of all I'll make music. And I'll be optimistic. Not matter what, I'm going to be positive.

That's what I'm doing anyway.

That's how I'm able to walk to Mr. Schuester's room. So I do. I walk to his room. It's only four' o'clock so there's still a lot of students at the school. I walk pass everyone until finally I reach the choir room where Mr. Schuester was. Then I go in.

I lightly knocked on his door.

Mr. Schuester looked up from whatever he was doing at his desk and his eyes light in recognition.

"Hello Abby," he greets. "Please sit down."

"Hi Mr. Schue," I say as I sit down in one of his chairs. "So, I've been talking with Ms. Pillsbury. She seems rather into Glee club. In fact, she really wanted me to join. She really likes you guys."

"Yeah," Mr. Schuester said. "Ms. Pillsbury has always been a great supporter of Glee club. All the way back to when we first started."

"She's really nice," I said. "I'm new here so I really don't know much about this Glee club except that being slushied is very common. Ms. Pillsbury said coming to Glee club would be worth it and considering that I've already been slshyied. What do I have to loose really?" Actually, I probably had a lot of things that I could loose, such as any hope of having no slushied stained shirts or any hope of being normal in this school. To at least be one of those people that can just go on through school unnoticed, but I wasn't going to be like that. I was going to join Glee club. I was going to be noticed. I was going to sing again. That was when I finally made my decision of what to do about Glee club.

"So here it is Mr. Schuester," I began. "I would like to join Glee club."

* * *

><p><strong>Please Review! They are very appreciated and frankly, they keep me going! Next chapter is coming up! Hopefully I will get it out soon!<strong>

**I hope you guys like this and I really hope that someone is actually reading this story. Again review, review, review! **


	5. Chapter 5 Trying to Amaze

**I'm sorry I haven't updated for a long while. I have been busy with a capitol B, even though I didn't put a capitol b on the word. Anyway, here's the next chapter. I hope anyone who actually reads this like it. Oh, and thank you to the reviewers! You guys rock my socks!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 5 Trying to Amaze<strong>

Mr. Schuester smiled a smile that grew from ear to ear.

Okay, it wasn't actually that big of a smile. But he was happy. I think he was at least. I mean, I was happy. I was finally joining the Glee club. I was _actually_ joining the Glee club; it seemed almost surreal. Then again, I would only be joining if Mr. Schuester let me in and the rest of the kids did too, and they would only let me join if I sang well. It would be a bit of a downer to muster up the courage to ask to join and then my dreams crushed, but I was hoping it wouldn't turn out like that. I really was hoping.

"That's great Abby," Mr. Schuester. "You'll need to audition first though, but if you're as good as Quinn says you are it shouldn't be a problem."

That's right about when I froze.

I had completely forgotten that I had to sing now. I have to audition. I have to sing on at stage, in front of the rest of the Glee kids. In front of the Rachel girl, who might be just as horrible to me as she had been to Sunshine Corazon. I don't know if I could take it if she is awful to me. And I wasn't going to switch schools like Sunshine Corazon had. I sort of liked McKinley High, slushies and all. There wasn't anything special about it, but I felt like I belonged here. Well, not here in Ohio (I still felt like I belonged in New York), but out of all the other schools in _Ohio_, McKinley seemed okay, a nice place even. Is thinking that weird? Is liking a place where slushies and bullies are a given weird? Then again, I'm weird, especially lately. So maybe weird was good. Maybe being idiosyncratic and peculiar was okay. For the time being at least, I was fine being weird. In a way, we all were weird. Weren't we?

"Audition?" I still asked my voice quavering the slightest.

"Yes, audition," Mr. Schuester said again, considerably slower than the first time as if I couldn't understand him or something of the sort. "All of the Glee kids have had to audition," he continued. "So, you'll be just the same. But don't worry, I'm fairly lenient considering basically everyone that auditioned has gotten in. It won't be a problem for you Abby."

I nodded slowly, a fake smile on my face. Despite his reassurances, I was still doubtful of myself. Low-self esteem problems being only one of the reasons why. Still, I managed to get through my doubt. After all, I was not going to back down when I'm so close.

"Okay, okay audition," I said slowly, processing the information. "When and where."

"How about the auditorium at four' o'clock? Does that work for you?" he asked.

"Yeah," I answered slowly. "It's perfect. I'll be there Mr. Schuester. Be there or be square right?"

He laughed lightly, "Yeah," he said. "I'll tell the rest of the club to come okay?"

"Yeah okay," I said, then started walking. "Adios!" I called over my shoulder at him.

"Adios," he replied back.

As fast as I could, I left the choir room. I was worried sick about the audition, but I wasn't going to let that show. No, I was going to that audition and I was going to rule it.

I was going to be amazing.

Probably.

* * *

><p>I didn't know what song to choose for my audition. There were so many choices, it was almost impossible to pick just one song. I loved the classics, so I thought about using a song from Wicked or West Side Story, but in the end I decided to go with something I know; something that was on my own turf.<p>

Once I left the choir room, I grabbed my things out of my locker. Then I quickly walked home. I strolled briskly, at a pace that was almost a run, so I would reach my apartment soon. I had to keep on telling myself to slow down and walk. After all, it's not like my CDs were going to go anywhere. However, I still felt like I needed to get there fast. So I walked fast. The gravel crunched under my shoes as I ambled down the road. It reminded me how in New York all the roads were paved and how they were for the most part, busy. Here in Ohio, the roads weren't so perfect and they were way less busy. The roads were broken and they were crumbling. But in New York…in New York the roads were paved and perfect. At least, I thought they were.

I would like to think they were.

As that thought blossomed in my mind, I realized what song I was going to choose. The idea struck me like a lightening bolt and I just knew. It was obvious almost.

The song was perfect and I was content with my choice so when I finally reached my house/apartment I dropped off my bags on the ground, which I knew would lead to my aunt being mad at me but for the time being I didn't care, then I scrambled hurriedly to my closet/bedroom. I pushed past my bed towards a cubby where I had the bad habit of throwing random things into. Mostly, I put all of my CDs into it, so that was where I looked for the certain CD. I looked into finally I found on the cover it had the number nineteen.

It was Adele.

* * *

><p>The next day I quickly went to school. I had gotten another ride with my aunt, and I was correct when I assumed she was mad at me for leaving my things on the ground. Of course, I promised I wouldn't do it again, but I probably would. I was a teenager after all.<p>

The rest of the school day went by pretty slow, even though I wanted it to go by quickly. But that was the story of my life. What I wanted, the opposite happened.

At long last, the clock ticked and then belted out the final school bell. When it rang it reminded me of freedom like it did for every other bored to their mind teen at school, which was probably a good percentage of the kids here. Along with everyone else I piled out of the classroom and followed along with the herd of kids until I finally reached my locker. I slowly pulled out my CD and put in into my backpack along with the rest of my belongings and the off I went to the auditorium.

When I got there I realized I was a few minutes late so everyone else was staring up at me as I opened the doors to the auditorium. To say that was embarrassing was an understatement.

"Hi," I greeted meekly.

"Hello Abby," Mr. Schue greeted brightly. "We were starting to think you weren't coming."

"Oh," I muttered. "I got lost."

That was only a half-truth because I was still a little lost in the school, but I knew enough to get the auditorium. The real reason I was late was probably because of my nervousness.

I heard a few snickers from some of the members in the club at my comment, but I shrugged it off and only glared at them a little bit.

Mr. Schue looked annoyed at the kids who snickered, but his annoyance only flashed for a moment upon his before he broke out into a smile again.

"Well, your here and that's what matters," he concluded. "Would you like to sing now?"

"Oh, um sure," I said nervously. I usually wasn't like this. So nervous and stuttering. I used to be so much surer of myself and so much surer of my path in life. But now, today, after everything that has happened…Of course, I was stuttering.

Despite my speech difficulties, I moved to the stage and desperately hoped that my stuttering wouldn't affect my singing. I looked down into the crowd of the Glee kids and I saw Quinn in her Cheerio outfit. She gave slight reassuring grin to me before turning back to her other Cheerio friends. She and her friends, they all reminded me of how my friends and I used to be. Something about how the group seemed so put together and fitting, it just reminded me of my old life. I even felt that urge deep inside my chest that wanted that familiarity back. But there was nothing to do. I wasn't like them anymore.

In my hand, I still had the Adele CD, but as I got up to the stage, I realized there was a band there, so weren't playing the song off a plain old CD.

"One more moment please," I said quickly before ushering backstage. I heard a few more exasperated sighs, but again I ignored them. I guess I was getting good at ignoring things. Maybe that was good a thing. They did say you needed a tough skin to be in the Glee Club.

I quickly told the musicians there what song I was doing and I set my CD down. Backstage, before I went back on, I breathed in and out for a moment that was probably longer than necessary. As I closed my eyes too, I suddenly felt a tap on my shoulder. I looked down to see the Rachel Berry girl.

"Hello?" I said, but my voice rising higher to form the word as a question.

"Hi," she said and then without taking a breath she began talking again. "I know you don't know me, very well or at all really, but I would like to think that I played a major role in you joining the Glee club." I looked at her skeptically. She actually hadn't played that major of a role at all. It was mostly Quinn and Ms. Pillsbury who had convinced me. I guess though, she was the first person to introduce the possibility of joining the club, so I did nod when she said that, only because of that.

"Well," she continued. "I need you to be really good. I know I know that I said I was amazing and I am, but I need you to be good right now because a lot of people are mad at me in the Glee club because another girl who I tried to get to join…I sent her to crack house."

"Yeah, I heard that you tricked Sunshine to go there and then she left the school," I explained sourly. I had fixed her with a questioning gaze because I wasn't for sure if she was threatening me or if she was encouraging me. By her tone of voice, it could mean either or both.

"You did hear?" she questioned a bit nervously almost like she was ashamed of it. But instantly that sound of being ashamed was gone and she went back to her buzzing Rachel Berry tone. "Well, you see now I'm trying to make up for it because people hate me even more than they did before, which believe me, is saying something. So I figured that if you are really good that they might forget about me sending Sunshine to a crack house."

"Oh," I said, elongating the O as I realized what she was saying. "Well, I'll try I guess." Not that I wouldn't have already.

"But are you good?" Rachel asked urgently. "I mean, I'm perfectly happy with people standing in the back swaying while I sing, but the rest of the members of the Glee club want as many "good" singers as they get. Personally, I think they are underestimating my brilliance, but what I think doesn't really matter anymore because again, they hate me now. Eventually their anger will blow over. We are team, I know it will, but they still might be less mad at me if we gained a new member, you, who was good. So you see Abby, I just need you to be good. It's not too much to ask because I don't need you to be too good, and you better not be better than me, but I do need you to be good. I am amazing, but I need you to be amazing too. So the question is are you amazing?"

"I can try to be," I said fretfully while shrugging my shoulders.

Rachel stared at me long and hard for a moment before turning away.

"Be amazing!" she called over her shoulder. "You can do it."

Her faith in me, even if it were for purely her own reasons, sort of made me feel better, like I could accomplish something. It sort of made me feel like I could go out there and sing.

So I did.

I walked out onto the stage, right to the middle of the stage where the microphone was. The spotlight was on me and it was very bright. Anxiously, I pushed back a piece of red hair that had fallen into my face. I tapped the microphone to make sure it was on and when I heard the ear-splintering noise that all microphones seem to make, I knew it was on.

"Hello," I said into the microphone. "My name's Abby Johnson and I'll be singing Chasing Pavements by Adele."

I didn't stutter. I realized this as I finished speaking. I didn't stutter. Maybe Rachel was right. Maybe I could be amazing (Of course not amazing as her. Her words not mine).

I looked over to the main guitar dude and I nodded for him to start playing.

"Hit it," I said.

With that, he motioned to his crew and the music started playing.

_I've made up my mind, don't need to think it over  
>If I'm wrong I am right, don't need to look no further<br>This ain't lust, I know this is love  
><em>

With that the song had started. My voice was slowly starting to gain confidence and as I looked out onto the crowd of Glee kids, I actually thought maybe I wasn't so bad.

_But if I tell the world, I'll never say enough  
>'Cause it was not said to you<br>And that's exactly what I need to do if I'd end up with you  
><em>

I began patting my hand getting against my leg, keeping time, but once the chorus started, I really got into the song and began gesturing almost wildly like all singers seem to do when they are singing the part of most intensity in the song.

_Should I give up or should I just keep chasing pavements  
>Even if it leads nowhere?<br>Or would it be a waste even if I knew my place  
>Should I leave it there?<br>Should I give up or should I just keep chasing pavements  
>Even if it leads nowhere?<em>

I build myself up and fly around in circles  
>Wait then as my heart drops and my back begins to tingle<br>Finally could this be it?

Should I give up or should I just keep chasing pavements

_Even if it leads nowhere?  
>Or would it be a waste even if I knew my place<br>Should I leave it there?  
>Should I give up or should I just keep chasing pavements<br>Even if it leads nowhere?_

Should I give up or should I just keep chasing pavements  
>Even if it leads nowhere?<br>Or would it be a waste even if I knew my place  
>Should I leave it there?<br>Should I give up or should I just keep on chasing pavements  
>Should I just keep on chasing pavements?<p>

Should I give up or should I just keep chasing pavements  
>Even if it leads nowhere?<br>Or would it be a waste even if I knew my place  
>Should I leave it there?<br>Should I give up or should I just keep chasing pavements  
>Even if it leads nowhere?<p>

As the song ended, I shrugged in answer to the question that the song posed. Right now, the song explained my befuddlement in life. It was a good question, should I keep wanting to go back to New York to my old life and should I keep despising this new home or should I just stop. Stop doing that to myself. Stop wanting things that I can't have. When it comes down to it, I have to realize that my old life…well that it's my _old_ life. Now this isn't my _new _life, it's just the life that I'm living. The one that I need to accept. Wanting that previous life back, would literally lead nowhere. Even telling my aunt that I wanted to go back, or even trying to go back to New York, wouldn't do much because even I got back. It wouldn't be the same. There would still be no mother and father for me to call each night to tell them how boarding school is going. I have an aunt now, so sure I could call her, but it wouldn't be the same. Nothing would be the same. I knew that from the very first day that what happened to my mother and father was explained. My parents were dead. You can't alter death. You can't alter life. Any quests to do so, would simply lead nowhere. My parents were gone. My old life was gone, but with each thing that was gone there is now something new that has happened.

Right now, clapping is what happened.

After the song had finished and I had belted out the final note, the Glee kids had begun clapping…for me. They were all smiling too, especially Rachel and Quinn. I smiled too and my cheeks were probably as red as my hair. At least, it definitely felt like that because I was blushing uncontrollably.

"Wow," Mr. Schuester said a huge grin on his face too. "That was…well that was great Abby. Nice job!"

"Amazing," Rachel corrected with a smile. "It was amazing." Mr. Schuester looked down at her curiously still grinning.

"Yeah," he agreed. "That too."

"So…" I said. "Am I in?"

"Are you in?" Mr. Schuester repeated. "Of course you are."

I smiled, "Good. It's…well it's good. Like you guys know I'm new here, so it's good to be a part of something."

"See how you feel after a slushy in the face," grumbled one of the guys with a Mohawk.

"Puck!" Rachel cried as she lightly hit the guy with the Mohawk who I assumed was Puck on the arm.

"No, it's okay. I've already felt what its like," I said lightly. "It's very cold."

One of the taller guys laughed, "That being the understatement of the year," he said.

I shrugged.

As we continued to talk, Mr. Schuester finally interrupted us.

"Well, unless we have to do anything in the auditorium any longer. We should get back to the choir room. We have to start practice for sectionals!" he exclaimed then he turned around.

I turned to Quinn who was standing next to me.

"Sectionals?" I questioned.

"Our first round of competition," she explained. "We won last year. Now we all are hoping to do it again this year. Mr. Schuester along with is. We all were sort of worried because we only had eleven members and we need twelve to compete. But then you joined…"

"Oh, I'm the twelfth member," I realized.

"Yeah," she said. "But more people might still join, so even if you hadn't joined, it wouldn't probably have even mattered. Not that it wasn't good that you joined. The more voices the merrier. The more people to take solos away from Rachel and make her upset, the better." She grinned at that thought.

"You don't like Rachel," I concluded.

"No," she said. "Not at all really. If she wasn't such a good singer, I along with quite a few members of the club, would have kicked her out."

"Yeah, she mentioned that," I said.

"You talked with her?" Quinn asked, alarmed. "Wow, now I'm really surprised that you joined."

I only shrugged my shoulders. "I wanted to join. No amount of annoyance was going to convince me not to."

"Well, I guess I'm glad you did," Quinn said. "You seem alright. Not Rachel-ish at all."

"I guess that's good," I said. "But back to sectionals…are they coming up soon?"

"No, sectionals actually are a long way away. Mr. Schuester is just…eager. After last year where when we had our songs stolen and we had to come up with new one at the last mine, he's just been trying to be extra prepared this time." She frowned as she reminisced and her hand unconsciously seemed to lightly touch her belly. "Just in case, but I really hope that sectionals don't end up like they did last year. It wasn't the best time for me, or any of us for that matter." I looked at her, eyebrow raised in confusion, but she just dismissed it. "Never mind, last year doesn't matter. I'm starting new this year. This year is going to be better. There are no boys and no babies…it will be better. But why am I telling you this? We barely know each other, I don't you want to hear my troubles. But you know, whatever," she finally said. "I'm a Cheerio again; I'm back on top, so I'm just going to focus on this year. There's a good piece of advice for you." As she talked she seemed to be addressing to herself more than to me, like she had gone over this in her head, but this was her first time saying them out loud, and I was just the clueless bystander who was hearing her little mantra of support for herself.

"True that," I said, even if she wasn't actually talking to me. It still caused her to grin the slightest, which I assumed meant that she had actually been listening to me. "Besides, I agree with you. Let bygones be bygones." In my mind I added that at least I would let bygones be bygones no matter how hard it was. Even if it killed me.

"Yeah," she agreed. "Good philosophy."

"I try," I grinned.

I know that Quinn seemed snobby in way, but she was also in a way funny. Even if the Cheerio outfit wasn't there, I still would have characterized her as that type of girl who was popular. At least, she seemed like the type of person who desperately wanted to be on top of the social food chain. I had been looking for friends in this school and despite her sort of snooty attitude, she was okay. She reminded me of one of my old friends. The thing was I was no longer friends with that "friend". Almost everyone in my previous life that knew about my parent's death, considered me as different and fragile. Including my old friends. However, I still miss those friends, but I can't be friends with them anymore because they treat me differently. Besides, I'm not one of them anymore. That's what led me to think that I need new friends here in Lima, and Quinn, she was okay. I wasn't a Cheerio, and didn't want to be one mind you, but she still seemed okay. Heck, everyone in the Glee club seemed okay, even Rachel. I could definitely imagine making new friends in the club.

Eventually, we all made it back to the choir room. To me it was a new place, but to everyone else this room seemed almost to be…home. I would never have considered a room at a school like a home, but this room; there was something about that made me believe that it could sort of me a home. A happy place at least. I could practically feel the music that would bounce against the walls in this room. It was a choir room, a completely standard and ordinary choir room, but to these kids it was something special. Something unique. It sort of made me believe that maybe one day thing room and these teens would be like a family to me. To me it seemed unlikely, but who knows, I definitely wouldn't have expected all these people in this room to come together in this group, but they did. They made a family. And Ms. Pillsbury was right, I needed as much family as I could get.

"Okay now that we're all here," Mr. Schuester began, "we can get started."

We all listened in as he began to talk. I also smiled because I was in the Glee club.

And because I was amazing.

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><p><strong>Okay that was the chapter. I hope you guys liked it. Abby's in the Glee club, yay! :) Anyway, I will try to update sooner than I did last time. Also please review. It means a lot to me.<strong>

**Oh and remember to always be AMAZING! Because you are. It's the truth.**


	6. Chapter 6 A Shrug or A Wave

**Finally! It took me forever to write this! I got the first 3,000 words done easily enough, but the last 1,000 would just not write! I try to strive for about 4,000 words each chapter give or take, so I was determined and finally I wrote it.**

**In this chapter and in the very first chapter I've put a definition of a word. When a chapter has a definition in it, that would means it's like the start of a new episode (so this would be Brittney/Brittany and the five chapter was Audition). I'm planning about 5 chapters for each episode thus would mean about 20,000 words. If I do carry this out, this story might end up being really long, but I haven't decided what I'm actually doing yet so nothing is set in stone. I mean, it's going to be an awful lot of writing because there is 22 episodes in the second season and at 20,000 words each that would be like 440,000 words...Yeah, I don't know if it's going to be that long. I don't really know anything right now, so it would be helpful to get some _nice _opinions.**

**So please review and for all those who have, you guys are spectacular! **

**Also, I do not own Glee or any of its characters. However, I do own Abby, her aunt, mom, and dad and any other characters that came solely from the ominous confines known as my brain. **

**Anyway, I hope you like that chapter. Oh and one more thing is that I talk about Anne Frank in this chapter and I'm fairly certain that everything I have wrote is truthful, but I'm am not 100% sure I got the facts straight, so just know that some things might not be perfect and if you do come across something that's wrong please just ignore it. I'm not here to teach about Anne Frank, no that's my history teacher's job. :) Still, I'm hoping that most of it is accurate and factual. Also, I do mention religion briefly because I am talking about Anne Frank, still I'm not going to put that much religion stuff into this story and the bulk of it is going to be in the next episode Grilled Cheezus anyway so I'm not going to say mch about it now.**

**Okay, that's it. Enjoy.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 6 A Shrug or A Wave<strong>

When I think my life's terrible. When I feel like I should just stop, give up, not move and just do nothing and keel over. I try to think about positive things. Constantly, I will try to will the optimist in me to take over so that I can believe things are bright and shiny. Don't get me wrong, I try really hard. I want to be that happy, upbeat person. The girl who thinks the glass is half full not half empty. Though sometimes, I just have to realize that thing are so bad that even if I became a complete optimist, things in life would still seem bad, bleak even. Then I think about Anne Frank.

She was only thirteen years old when the discrimination of Jews became so much that her parents, her sister, and she had to gone into hiding. Two years she spent in that "secret annex" as they called it. It amazed me to think she hadn't gone mad after living in isolation for so long, but it's possible that she had, that everyone had, at least a little bit. She was stuck in the same room for two years, the whole family yearned for the times each day one of their secret helpers would bring them food or news. If I was them I would have gone a little crazy too. However, instead of loosing her sanity, while there she dreamed of one day becoming a journalist and an author and one day publish a story called the Secret Annex. Entitling her dairy Kitty, she wrote her deepest thoughts into there. After her death, once her father found the book he had said that he always thought of Anne as a child, but reading her diary he had begun to realize she had grown up. Maybe her father had been clueless of that or maybe that was just him being a father. Most fathers are like that aren't they? Mine was. If he saw me right now, and heard my deepest darkest thoughts, he would definitely realize that I had changed. But the thing is with fathers, is that they don't want to know these things. They want to pretend their baby girls are going to forever stay just like that, as babies. They want to keep us in a bubble. Eventually they have to comprehend we all grow up. I grew up, and Anne did too.

I would have liked to think that Anne would have been my type of girl. Repeatedly, historians have called her a one-hundred percent girl and that was because she was. She was boy crazy, she was jealous of her older sister Margot, she liked being popular, she was stylish, and she loved her family. She was like anyone else, even me, but what made her most famous was that diary of her. Kitty, as she called it. After all, not nearly as many people remember Margot, even though one of the main reasons the Franks moved so quickly to the secret annex was because of Margot receiving summons that she was to go to Germany to work in a labor camp. No, they don't remember her; they all remember Anne and her checkered diary.

I've never hidden anything as deeply as Anne had. I mean, I definitely never had to live in a secret room for two years to not be put to work as a slave. Never have I ever been discriminated against as much as her. You may not think this, with my red hair and all, but I am Jewish. I never really was much of a religious person, but I prayed and I believe there was another force out there that at least helps us through our lives. I _had _to believe that. If I didn't…well I don't know what I'd do. I definitely wouldn't have been like Anne. It was said that she kept of high spirits for the most part while in that room. I don't know if I could do that. Besides, all the hate and anger at that time, it would have been overwhelming. Overall, she had a tough life, a really tough life. So that's why when I'm down, I compare my life to Anne Frank's.

I'm not perfect. That's one thing that I've made sure of, so I'm not going to say that I've never pitied myself for my "terrible" life because I've had. I've thought that life was unfair because of really stupid things. Things that nowhere, in any such way, even closely compared to what Anne and her family went through. I've thought that I rather die than live another day, jokingly of course. However, all those jokes were made before my parent's accident.

Wow, I still can't even say that my parent's have passed away. Even that right there is a struggle for me.

Yet, that struggle and mainly everything else didn't compare to what Anne went through.

She couldn't do anything but watch as slowly her family was ripped apart. Being separated from her father in Auschwitz was the first part of her family being taken apart. Then it was her mother, who was not allowed to go with the two sisters to the Bergen-Belsen camp. At this concentration camp, sickness reined free. Typhus infected most prisoners including Anne and Margot. Margot died and a matter of days later Anne did too. Her mother had already died in the camp, but her father, he was still alive. He was the sole survivor of the whole family.

Anne had thought she had lost all her family. Each one had slowly dwindled away and she was left alone, living in a concentration camp. Food was scarce and there was so much sickness.

Despite all of this, it makes you wonder, if Anne had known about her father surviving, would she have the extra will to hold on to life for just a while longer?

Could she have willed her inner optimist to shine through?

If I was having a hard time with it, me who had miniscule problems compared to her, would she have been able to do it?

To me it seemed doubtful, but that was my opinion. No one seemed to really care about my opinions. Not anymore at least. Even I don't pay that much attention to that voice inside my head anymore. Usually, I'm a very instinctive person, but lately I don't really know. It seemed like my instincts were almost off. However, one instinct was joining the Glee club and so far it hasn't seemed so bad. It was nice, despite all the hate towards the group. It was nice and fun and it was like a family practically. Sure, there was some animosity in the group, but that was to be expected. It was high school after all.

Mr. Schuester made Glee club fun. Of course, that was only when he wasn't trying to get us to do the boring warm up exercises or to perform another Journey song. He was also a very good Spanish teacher. Overall, I'd say he was one of the best teachers at McKinley. I'd like to think that I was a good student too. I got assignments in on time, I actually did the assignments and I paid attention in class. I had to have good grades at my previous school because the school was very prestigious. At that school, I and about every other student had to work overtime to stay there, but all the extra work and studying was worth it to stay there. It was widely known that if you went to high school there and a managed to get good grades that you could get into almost any college of your choice. When my parents moved back to Maine, I had stayed there because I knew it would benefit my life in the end. Oh, how wrong I had been. If only I hadn't put up such a fight to stay at the boarding school than I would have gone back to live with my parents in Maine and they would never have flown on the flight that ended in a crash. They had been coming to see _me_ on that day, all because I was too selfish to go live with them in Maine. I told myself I wanted to stay because how the school would better my life, but in truth I wanted to stay there mostly because that was what I was used to. It's where my friends were and where my life had been.

I never would have expected that by staying there my life would be taken on a full 180 turn and I'd be living in Ohio of all places. Now Maine sounded good. Maine sounded _so _good. And it probably always would. For Anne Frank, the Secret Annex must have sounded so good compared to the concentration camps. Even though it might have not been what she wanted, the Secret Annex was a safer place. Not a safe place, but a safer place. There was a difference, a difference that I knew only too well, and a difference that I had come to accept.

I wonder sometimes though, if I had gone to live in Maine, would I still be an optimist?

Mr. Schuester seemed like an optimist. From what I've seen of him at least, I would say he was one. He had seemed a little sad lately, but I figured we all go through our rough patches and waves of depression. Besides, I couldn't judge, I was going through a rough patch too. Worst of all, I wasn't letting anyone see me as I went through this patch. I was hiding it as best as I could and believe me, I was good at it. I was so good at it that one day Mr. Schuester came up with to me with a proposition of how to make others more optimistic. Well, maybe that wasn't exactly what he meant, but he did come with a question.

"Hey Abby," he said one day after the end of class bell rang.

"Yes?" I asked as I put my binder in my school bag.

"Here's your paper back from last week's assignment," he said as he handed me it. An A was written in red and I couldn't help but smile. "Good job on it," he continued. "In fact, your paper was probably one of the best."

"Oh," I said surprised. "Thank you."

"Well, you deserved it," he said. "You've been doing really well in my class and from what I've seen in the other classes too."

I only shrugged, not willing to tell him how hard I worked to make those grades. I didn't want him to think that I was that hung up over grades, even if I was. "I try my best," I merely said.

He nodded, "I've noticed and I'm pretty sure you know that some of the other kids don't do as well or some don't even try as hard. As a teacher, this can be depressing and it's nice to have some students go the extra mile."

Again, I shrugged. I was this way because I was a perfectionist and because of what New York did to me, other kids weren't that way. They were probably lucky.

"Anyway, Principal Figgins is trying to get the school's grade average up so he was thinking about starting a student tutoring project. So I was thinking that you might be interest," he explained.

I frowned and my eyebrows knitted together in confusion, "I thought you said I had good grades," I said. "Why would I need tutoring?"

"Oh no, you don't need tutoring. Your grades are impeccable," Mr. Schue explained quickly. "Figgins wanted peer tutoring, so we'd have students tutoring students. I thought because your grades were so good…"

"-that I would tutor someone," I finished for him as I realized what he meant. For the third time, I shrugged my shoulders. "I'll think about it," I said.

"It's a great way to earn a little more money and looks great on college applications," Mr. Schue promoted.

"I'm only a sophomore," I explained quickly. College seemed like a long way away. Sure, I had thought about it. I had stayed at the high school in New York for my freshman year, one of the reasons being college. Still, I didn't want to think about college or how I'd have to graduate and be on my own completely, with no parents to help me out at all.

"It's never too late to be prepared," he said and was right. I assumed he must truly believe this because he was already using that tactic of being prepared beforehand for Sectionals.

"Yeah," I agreed, "but I'm new and I think before I start tutoring other people, I should really get situated here and besides, I don't even know if I'll have enough time with school, Glee club, and track." Seeing the slightly disappointed look on his face, I quickly spoke again. "I'll talk to my…parents about it though." I couldn't help it; I didn't like to disappoint people over even the simplest of things. So I agreed to think about it, I just hoped he didn't notice that blip in my sentence where I didn't know whether to say aunt, mom, dad, or guardian. In the end, I said parent. I don't even know why I sad it because it was impossible to talk to them about it, but then again Mr. Schuester didn't know anything about that.

"Good," he said with a smile.

"Um, but where would the tutoring take place? At the school?" I asked.

Mr. Schuester shrugged this time. "Yes, or sometimes at one of your guy's house."

This was what I had been worrying about. If I tutored someone, I would have to make sure that we only studied at the school or at their house because there was no way I would let anyone see where I lived. It wasn't that I was ashamed at our small apartment…okay maybe that _was_ part of the reason, but Ijust couldn't deal with it if word got out that I was living there. And after everyone realized that I lived there, it wouldn't be long for people to wonder where my parents were and then realize the truth, and that was the last thing I needed. It was ironic, I was a truthful person yet I feared the truth. But that was my life.

I did need the money though. I wasn't poor because I had previously lived in New York, it was just that all the money was in the bank and I didn't want to use my parent's money. My dead parent's money. I don't think I could do it. So even with the risk, there was a part of me saying that I should tutor and even though I rarely listen to that voice inside my head anymore, I might do it just this once. Just so I can try something different and see if it actually works out.

"Okay," I said. "I'll come up with an answer tomorrow. Is that okay?"

"Yeah," he said. "It's fine."

"Well, I should get going now," I told him as I packed up my things and left.

"See you tomorrow," he said.

"Yeah, see you," I said. And then I left, thinking over our conservation. Was I really thinking about tutoring? I wasn't even that smart. Grades on a piece of paper are one thing, being overall smart in life was another. Who was I to think that I should start tutoring other people, even if it was just about Spanish class? I couldn't do this. Why would I even think about it?

Most of all, as I left the classroom I though one simple thought: What had I gotten myself into?

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><p>The question remained in my mind that night and haunted me as I tried to fell asleep. I couldn't say if it haunted my dreams because I rarely have them or rather the dreams I dream I rarely remember. That was one of my quirks. I was one of those girls that could day dream and completely space out for hours on end, but when it came to dreaming, I was a hopeless case. Infrequently, I would dream and occasionally those dreams would be actual, long dreams. The majority of the time though, I'll have short, snippets of dreams that will blend together, but as for actually dreams, I've never really dreamt like that.<p>

When I was younger though, I was eager to have those dreams. Yes, I was the strange child who didn't want to stay up late, but instead wanted to go to bed and dream. The funny thing is that for the longest time, the dream I wished for the most was a dream of flying. A dream where I would be up in the sky, the wind in my air; I'd be up in the clouds, so high that I might just be able to reach the stars. I would be a bird and I would fly.

I _dreamed_ of the sky, of that big expanse of blue that took away my parents.

I guess it's not so funny.

Still, the question remained in my busy mind till morning time, even until breakfast.

"So how is school going?" my aunt asked cheerily as I put in some toast in the toaster.

"Good," I answered simply. There was nothing to more to say as far as I was concerned.

"You joined track right?" she asked.

"Yeah," I answered again, as simply as before.

"You know, when I was in high school I was in track too. My specialty was the one-hundred meter sprint. I won a couple races during that one," she continued on with her reminiscing of the "good ole days" as I finished my toast and started stuffing my binder with homework from the previous night. I nodded as she talked though I didn't pay much attention to what she was saying. I sort of had a tendency to tune her out whenever she starts with "when I was in high school." Then again, I'm sure a lot of teenagers had the tendency to do that.

I continued getting for school and by now I was completely zoning out and not listening to my aunt at all. So much so that I didn't really she called by name until she said it twice.

"Abby!" she said again. "Are you even listening to me?"

"W-what?" I asked quickly looking up at her. "Yeah, I was listening." Even though I wasn't.

"What was I saying then?" she said in that motherly way that she had managed to create from the few short months I had spent with her.

"Um…" I said. "You were talking about you playing track right?"

"Yes, but what did I say after that?" she demanded.

I widened my eyes, as I realized I had spaced out. Hurriedly, I tried to think of an excuse, but despite my best efforts, I couldn't.

"…I'm sorry, I wasn't listening," I said quickly.

"I was saying that your parents would be proud of you," she said.

I looked up at her, my eyes not seeming to be able to catch hers.

"Oh," I said simply and I turned back to my backpack.

"I'm not lying, Abby," my aunt continued. "You adjusted. You're keeping up your grades, your joining clubs and sports. You're doing more than I could have hoped for at this point."

I didn't know how to reply. When we got to talking about these topics, I got conflicted and confused; I just simply do not know how to talk about these things. Communication problems were one thing, but when it came to talking about my parents and how they would be "proud" and all that emotional stuff, it was like I was a malfunctioned robot. I don't compute it. Might as well put a sign on me saying "Broken Beyond Repair" because frankly now that I am malfunctioned, I don't think there's a way to fix me. I could act like I was fixed though. I could pretend and imagine that I was fixed. It will be like a game of dress-up, I would change this broken robot costume in for a costume of someone heal and whole. But nothing is ever that easy is it?

"I'm trying to get acquainted with Ohio. It's different then New York," I explained. "Besides it's not like I wasn't already doing these extracurricular activities at my old school. There's nothing different."

"I know, I know," she repeated. "It's just that I've read about some cases like this where teens fall into a state of depression and close their selves off from the world."

"Cheryl you really need to stay off the internet," I said jokingly because she had been known to go own the internet and look up random things, all the while retaining the information that might not even be factual.

She gave me a pointed glance before speaking again, "You know what I mean Abigail," she said sternly and I wince at the use of my full name.

"It's Abby not Abigail," I correct quickly.

After Cheryl shoots me another pointed glance, she sighed. Then she returned to making a lunch for me I guess.

"Anyway…" I murmured. "I should be going. If I don't go now, I'll be late."

"Wait a second. I'm almost done with your lunch," she said as she puts my ham sandwich into a sandwich container. "And what's wrong with Abigail it's a perfectly fine name!"

"Yes, I know it is," I explain. "But I'm used to Abby everyone calls me Abby."

"I'm your aunt; I think I am an exception to everyone. I'm sure your parents used to call you Abigail," she said and then looks up at me realization in her eyes, and probably doubt too as she must realize that this healed girl she thought she knew might after all be playing a very one-sided game of dress up. "Oh, Abby is that why you don't want me to call to Abigail?"

But as she asks I'm already close to leaving. I had grabbed my backpack swung it onto my back and started moving to the door.

"I'll buy a lunch at school," I said ignoring her question.

"But Abby wait!" she calls, yet it's too late. I'm already out the door and with a slam it closes. Then I walk to school the desperate image of my aunt with my still unmade lunch calling out to her filling my mind. I tried to ignore it though. And I can, after all it's just a new costume.

Besides, I never really was one for ham sandwiches.

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><p>Once at school, I realized that while talking with my aunt I had forgotten about my current predicament: deciding whether or not to tutor. In the end, as I reached the school, I had made up mind. It wasn't exactly a hard decision.<p>

It was in fact simple; I decided that I would tutor.

Coming to this decision had been easy, mostly because of what my aunt was saying. Even if her resources weren't reliable, I can't deny that she has a point when she explained about teens falling into depression and closing themselves off. However, for me it was quite the opposite. It's not that I'm not depressed, I am at least marginally depressed, but what it really is that I hadn't tried to close myself off. I was a thinker. I thought, and studied, and took great pains to go over the slightest things and then I become hung up over these things. But I needed time to think and if my schedule was full then it would be easy because there would be way less time to think and think and think. So I wouldn't get hung up over little things and I wouldn't think about things that would make me that cliché emotional teenage girl.

It's like crying. When I started to feel my face heat up, I have to tell myself not to cry, but then I let my mind wander a bit too far and I think about all the sad things. I can't _stop_ thinking about those sad things. So I cry.

One thing that I have thought about the most is my old life. If that isn't apparent, where have you been this whole story?

Because it should be apparent. I _do_ think about that old life an awfully big amount of the time and I think about how I used to be. One item of my past had stood out the most and that was being an optimist. I wondered if I was still one, or if Anne Frank was one. I wondered about it and I thought about it so much that one day, I just had to check in the dictionary to see if I was still an optimist.

_**optimist **noun_

_1. a person disposed to take a favorable view of things._

_2. a person who holds the belief or the doctrine of optimism._

For some strange reason, I had expected knowing this definition would make me feel better because I could see that the great debate between whether or not I was an optimist was over, done.

I knew I wasn't an optimist because I couldn't say that I was either one of the two parts in the definition.

Could you?


	7. Chapter 7 The Top of the Mountain

**My first post of the New Year! This one is a little longer to compensate for the time gone. Also, review are appreciated. It's nice to know if what I'm writing is actually worth it to write. I'm a new writer. I mean, I've always written, but not stories like this. Once a group of my friends and I decided to write our own story, ultimately we ended up getting 3 chapters in then giving up, but I'm hoping that I can do better than those 3 chapters in this story. I'm also a very self-conscious writer, I don't know if this is apparent in the writing. Of course, I loose myself in the writing, but I also am very meticulous in a self-degrading way where it has to be perfect, even though most of the times it's not. Anyway, it's nice to know that I can write because when I was writing that story with my friends, one of my friends said that I shouldn't write much of it because I was a bad writer. That hurt because I knew I wasn't anything special at all when it came to writing, but I had hoped that I was at least okay. Still, I'm writing this story and if I ever had the guts to show it to my friend, I hope that she might readjust her opinion of my writing. Or she might not. Either way, I think I'm going to keep writing because I enjoy it and at the end of the day, that's what matters.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 7 The Top of the Mountain<strong>

I will never understand the amusement the game Peek-a-Boo brings to a child. Don't get me wrong, I'm a kid's person and I love kids; they can always make me smile. I've baby-sitted since I was no longer the one called a baby and often while I've baby-sitted I have used the simple game of Peek-a-Boo to calm a wild child or to simply bring a smile out of a kid. Despite the use of this tactic, I do not understand how this game is any fun. I mean, think about it. You hide behind something, or you take a toy and hide it behind something, then you pop out and say "Peek-a-Boo!" causing the child to smile and laugh. Personally, I don't comprehend how this is amusing. Does the child think it is funny to loose something? Or is it the finding it again that is so entertaining. I can understand the latter option, at least more than the first option, because humans do like that don't they? We as humans _like_ the thrill of the hunt, and more so the feeling of accomplishment that comes when that thing is found. We relish in the moment that we become Sherlock Holmes, don't we? We like finding things, we enjoy it. In our own way, we are bloodhounds searching, sniffing for the item we yearn for most. At least this is how it is for me. I like finding things, and I am good at it. I enjoy that feeling when you've been looking for something for so long and then finally you find it. When that happens, you feel…relief. Like this weight was lifted off your shoulders. So I can, despite everything, understand why finding the object again during the game of Peek-a-Boo could make someone happy and make them smile. I just don't understand how it is worth it to find that object if you willingly lost it in the first place.

I was child once, and technically I'm still one because I'm under the age of eighteen, so I'm definitely not any different than everyone else. Besides, I'm pretty sure when I was younger I enjoyed Peek-a-Boo as much as the next kid. Though what I wonder the most, is what _I_ was thinking whenever I played Peek-a-Boo. I know it's a weird thing to wonder, but I do wonder it. And besides, I'm weird remember?

Still, I don't think most people wonder, or even think much about the game of Peek-a-Boo because it is a simple game. It's a child's game. Perhaps why I'm so against the game is because I want to be that child again. I want to find amusement in the simplest things, in the game of Peek-a-Boo, but I'm not a kid anymore so I just can't.

Perhaps, this is one of my issues: wanting to be a kid again. I probably have a lot more issues. I wasn't going to talk to Ms. Pillsbury, my therapist, about them though. I guess besides being weird, I also was one of those people who bottle things in. Because that's what I did at all of my sessions with her and my third session wasn't any different.

"How are you today?" she asked sweetly.

"Good, how about you?" I replied with a bored monotone.

"Good, good," she repeated softly.

There was a pause for a moment as I just sat there. Finally I spoke.

"Um, what are we supposed to do in these sessions?" I asked uncomfortably while wringing my hands. "It's just that I've never gone to a therapist before and anything I know about therapy was mostly accumulated from TV and the internet and neither of those are exactly the most reliable of sources. Especially considering on TV the patients are usually in those weird reclining chairs."

She smiled again, and I think she understood me despite my tendency to speak extremely fast when nervous. She must have, considering that next she spoke and answered my questioned, "We are just here to talk," she answered. "Nothing more than that."

"But I don't have anything to talk about," I said while simultaneously standing up. "Ask anyone, I'm not a talker!"

That is true, except when someone got me going. Then and only then, I would go on and on and rant about whatever was troubling me until I got worn out of talking. One example of this would be right now, which now that I think about it, probably isn't the best way to convey my message of being calm and at ease with my new situation.

"That's okay," she said, "but I'm sure there's something we can talk about."

"I _don't_ want to talk about New York," I explained gripping the back of the chair I had been sitting in tightlu. "And life in Ohio isn't exactly thrilling."

"How about the Glee club? Do you like the kids? And Mr. Schuester?" she questioned.

I scrunched up my eyebrows, "Its fine," I said then my face softened. "Actually, it's fun. For the most part, people are nice but no one really pays that much attention to me. I'm fine with that though."

What I didn't tell her was that it was easier this way. I didn't want to be widely known, to be popular. I know it was strange, especially considering in New York I had tried my hardest to be popular and to be in the "in-crowd," but now…the desire for that popularity just wasn't there. So it was okay. Easier. I never thought I'd want to be invisible, but now I do. I didn't know how long the feeling would last nor if it was good or bad to feel this way.

"Have you thought yet, about telling your friends about your parents?" she asked. "The Glee club is a close knit group. It wouldn't be a bad thing to tell them. They'll support you."

"Maybe, but they don't know me yet," I explained because it's true. Right now, I'm dealing with this...this accident, so I'm not me. When I get my issues under control and when I can accept all of this, then I'll be back to normal, back to who I was before this. So then I can maybe actually have friends, real friends. "I just moved here," I explained not ready or willing to tell her my heartfelt thoughts, "and I don't want people to think I'm any different than how I would be if this hadn't happened and if I just moved here because of a parent's job or something of the sort."

"But you're not any different," Ms. Pillsbury assured. "When this thing happens, it affects the children yes, but as long as you have a good support group, you won't be any different."

I sighed. "I'm not different in most ways," I agreed. "But at the end of the day, I'm still orphaned and living in Ohio. So I am different."

I checked my watch on my wrist and noticed the time; I had to get to Glee club soon or I'd be late.

"It is almost time for Glee club," I announced. "I should get going." I grabbed my shoulder bag and started moving to the door. "Good bye," I said.

"Bye," she said too, looking mildly defeated. She looked like she wanted to say more, but I was already starting out the door.

As I walked through that door of her office, I thought one simple thought.

Childhood looked mighty good right about now.

I was just in time for Glee club. Everyone was mostly there, so I sat in the back. Mr. Schuester was writing on the board. Just as I sat down he finished writing whatever it was he was writing.

"Alright," Mr. Schuester said elongating the syllable as he turned around from the board to face us. I noticed, everybody in the Glee club was sitting in their usual place in the chairs. The Cheerleaders were together, the couples sat by each other and then there were the few loners who didn't exactly belong with another person in the group. I among the loners. Mr. Schuester addressed us a group though and seemed to be in an excited mood as he pointed at the board with a marker in hand. "Who can tell me who Christopher Cross is?" Mr. Schuester asked.

"He discovered America," Brittany answered and I inwardly laughed, especially considering I saw Finn nodding in agreement to Brittany's comment.

"Close," Mr. Schuster said though the relevance to each other was questionable. "He did write an iconic chart-topper, _Sailing._"

"I have a bad feeling about this," Kurt murmured to Mercedes.

"Never heard about him, don't want to hear about him," Tina said defiantly.

Mr. Schuester, who either chose to ignore Tina or actually didn't hear her, spoke again, "Now, some people think the term easy listening is a bad thing, but I'm going to let this music speak for itself." He started to pass out sheet music to us and then he spoke up again. "You guys love Lady Gaga and the Rolling Stones, and you guys are really good about putting it all out there, but really good music can also be controlled and restrained. It doesn't have to attack an audience. It can let them come to you."

"How can you get caught between the moon and New York City? They are like a hundred miles a part," Finn questioned while looking over the music.

"Mr. Schue," Kurt said raising his hand. "If I may, I think I speak for all of us when I say that it's not that I don't love the idea of spending a week of this silky, smooth adult contemporary. It's just that as teens this isn't the easiest music for us to relate to. However, there is a burgeoning Facebook campaign that has swelled to over five members," he explained raising his hand to express the number five. "The art in demand, that this week at the fall homecoming assembly, the McKinley High School Glee Club perform an number by wait for it…" And we did wait it as we looked at him in impatience. Then finally he spoke, "Ms. Britney Spears."

"Yo, Spears is Fierce," Artie exclaimed as the rest of the Glee club made noises of approval. We all began to talk about Britney Spears excitedly, that is everyone but Brittany. I didn't join in either because I wasn't the biggest Britney Spears fan. When I was younger I listened to her, but my mother sort of influenced my musical choice, at least when I was younger, and so didn't listen to her too often. I had nothing against her, but I've never taken a particular interest in her either, so I was neutral on the matter. I was Switzerland. Mr. Schuester, however was not because he instantly protested the suggestion.

"Sorry, Kurt, Kurt sorry no," he began trying to be heard above the excited chatter of the rest of the group. "No, I don't think she's a very good role model."

"But Mr. Schue," Rachel protested. "We kind of grew up with her."

"She's literally why I wanted to become a performer," Tina insisted.

Then in quieter voice, Brittany spoke, "I don't want to do Britney."

"Why no Britney, Brittany?" Kurt asked.

"Because my name is also Britney Spears," she explained causing everyone to turn their head and stare at her in confusion.

"W-what?" Mr. Schuester asked looking as confused as the rest of us.

"What the hell is she talking about?" Mercedes questioned with her usual sass.

"My middle name is Susan and my last name is Pierce," she explained. "That makes me Brittany S. Pierce, Brittany S-pierce." I, along with everyone else probably, continued to stare at her with bewilderment, just now realizing her strange connection to Britney Spears. "I've lived my entire life in Brittany Spear's shadow. I will never be as talented or famous. I hope you all respect that I want Glee club to remain a place where I, Brittany S. Pierce, can escape the torment of Britney Spears."

I didn't know whether to laugh or agree with her.

"Well," Mr. Schuester said after a moment, looking mildly happy. "There you have it guys. It's been decided. No Britney. Sorry."

"Thanks, Brit," Kurt said with contempt in his voice. "Thanks a lot."

"Leave Brittany alone," Santana said jumping to Brittany's defense.

"Thank you for understanding," Brittney said as Santana rubbed her back softly. "It's been a hard round."

Rachel then held up her hand in annoyance, "Um, can we move on?" she asked briskly.

"Yes," Mr. Schuester said, looking happy to change the subject. "Let's talk about Michael Bolton."

There was a collective sigh as he said that one. Mr. Schuester began to explaining about Michael Bolton, all the while, trying to get us to see the thrills of easy listening music. Like Britney Spears music, I wasn't the biggest fan of Adult Contemporary. There were a few songs and artists I liked, but I wouldn't say Adult Contemporary was my favorite genre of music either.

Luckily, Mr. Schuester could only talk so long before the bell rang, so eventually Glee club came to close and everybody began to leave. Swiftly, I gathered up my belongings and I walked out of the choir room into the hallway. As I walked, I heard someone call out to me.

"Hey, Abby wait up!" called Quinn.

I turned around to see Quinn walking my way.

"Oh, hi," I greeted.

"How do you like Glee club?" she asked and I assumed that must have been the question of the day because people keep asking me about it.

"I enjoyed it," I said. "Well, I don't really know about this genre of music, but still its fun."

She scoffed, "You don't have to lie, Mr. Schue isn't around," she explained. "Besides, I'm fairly certain everyone in Glee club didn't like Mr. Schue's choice of music this week. His choices are usually better than this. Heck, I'd almost be willing to perform another Journey song, if it meant we stop with this music."

"I guess your right," I agreed with a smile. "But it can't be that bad. Especially if Mr. Schue relents and lets us perform Britney Spears songs." I tried to sound excited even if I wasn't as big of a fan of hers as some of the members of Glee club were. Besides, assuming that Quinn is a fan, it would be a common topic to talk about. A normal thing to talk about and right now, I lived for any possible ounce of normalcy.

"Yeah," she said. "We'd probably have to have Brittany's permission to though. She was pretty resilient in not wanting to do Britney Spears songs. I can understand it with her name…sort of, but it's still the first time I've seen the girl actually protest to something so strongly."

I nodded in agreement.

"But then again," she continued. "I didn't expect Mr. Schuester choice of music this week either so I guess my instincts must be off lately."

"I know the feeling," I murmured as we reached my locker. I quickly opened it as Quinn and I continued to talk and then I put my things into it.

Looking into my locker, Quinn then turned back to me.

"Your locker reminds of when I first moved here," she said. "It's very blank."

"Yeah, well I'm new and I don't exactly have a bunch of pictures with friends to fill my locker," I explained.

"What about friends from you're old school? You lived in New York right? That must have been really cool."

"It was," I said, "for the most part. But I'm here now, so I decided to not to wear down the place with pictures of New York. Besides, my friends and I was never really the picture taking type of people."

She looked at me curiously, probably wondering who, besides models, the picture taking types of people are.

"Okay," she said. "But you must have some with your girl friends, family, or maybe a boyfriend?"

She smiled as she said the last word, in the way girls do when talking about boys. However, I wasn't paying attention to her tone of voice; it was the words that I noticed the most because they hurt. Friends. Family. A boyfriend. They all hurt so much because by now they were all gone. They had all slowly dwindled away. Even my boyfriend, because I did have a boyfriend in New York. When I moved here though, to boring Ohio, and after my parent's accident, we had decided to give it a break. I had hoped the break was for just a short period of time because I liked the guy, but by now, I don't even know. We had texted each other since I moved here. Not often, but just enough that I missed him. Zach was his name. He was a good guy. Nice, funny, overall a perfect first love, but even going out with him the first time, I hadn't had that feeling that we going to last. It's not that I wasn't a giddy schoolgirl when he first asked me out because I was. I had in fact been jumping up and down in excitement.

I can still remember the day he asked me out and said yes. After that happened, my friends had managed to squeeze every last detail about him out of me. Then as we pored over every detail and tried to decide what he meant by phrasing certain things, we had been laughing and smiling, joking around like normal freshman. Then we had been putting together outfits for the night and trying on different make up to see what I should wear on my date. We had done this every time one of or group was asked out, like it was ritual. After the date, things had gone good between us. However, I was only a freshman, and despite that being a year ago, I still feel like I was so young back then. However, now I feel more grown up, so our old relationship seems so childish almost, but considering that I do wish to be a child, even being one year younger would have made me happy. Anyway, life in general was much better last year. Even with seemingly child-like relationships, last year I still had a family and friends, even a home. So yes, I want to go back to being a child and that wish, may be the reason why the idea of talking with Zach again suddenly seemed so intriguing.

"A boyfriend?" I mused. "Well, I did have a boyfriend in New York, but we sort of broke-up because of the long distance." I explained to her.

"Oh," she said. "I see. I guess that was probably smart, so you don't want to end up with a messy relationship."

"Yeah, I didn't want to get my heart broken," I explained.

"Understandable," she chirped, then she paused for a moment before looking back at me. "But, was he cute?"

As I closed my locker and we started walking down the hall, I smiled despite myself in reminisce, "Definitely."

* * *

><p>I'll admit it, Quinn's questions about my lack of pictures got to me. I know that I'm fine with my locker being undecorated, but it's more the symbol of what the locker represented that I hated. My locker was empty, and I had always made sure my locker was covered with pictures and favorite quotations. So yes, it was different. I thought it fine because now I'm different and that's true. Yet, I miss that feeling of homeliness my locker had. I miss on bad days being able to look at the photos of friends and family and remember all those smiles and all that laughter. So I missed the pictures, as I missed a lot of things.<p>

Maybe this is what provoked to find my old guitar in the storage unit that we were renting out. It was filled with my old stuff, and my parents belongings too, but I had been able to look past it all to grab that guitar. My old, familiar guitar that I had missed. The song came to me easily, so when I sat down on my bed in my tiny closet/bedroom and my guitar fit just perfectly so I could play and not be completely cramped, I couldn't help but feel this was good. This was another thing I had missed. I hadn't been thinking that I would use the old guitar at all while living here, but now I am using. Actually, I hadn't expected to be involved with music at all, but here I am now. In Glee club. I wouldn't have expected it.

I was about to start the song, when my fingers paused on the frets. Instead of fingering the first chord, I moved to grab my phone. Down my contact list I went to almost the last number, until finally I found it. Zach's number. I try not to be this overly sensitive, girly person, especially not when it comes to boys, but right now I definitely felt like that kind of person. And as I texted Zach my first actual text in a long time, I smiled. And I hoped. I hoped because in the text I asked him if even wanted to get back together and I wanted him to say yes.

As I waited for his response, I sang.

_wooh, ehhhh, wooooh._

_I've been waiting on the sunset_  
><em>Bills on my mindset<em>  
><em>I can get deny they're getting high<em>  
><em>Higher than my income<em>  
><em>Income's breadcrumbs<em>  
><em>I've been trying to survive<em>

_The glow that the sun gives_  
><em>Right around sunset<em>  
><em>Helps me realize<em>  
><em>This is just a journey<em>  
><em>Drop your worries<em>  
><em>You are gonna turn out fine.<em>  
><em>Oh, you'll turn out fine.<em>  
><em>Fine, oh, you'll turn out fine.<em>

_But you gotta keep your head up, oh,_  
><em>And you can let your hair down, eh.<em>  
><em>you gotta keep your head up, oh,<em>  
><em>And you can let your hair down, eh.<em>

_I know it's hard, know its hard,_  
><em>To remember sometimes,<em>  
><em>But you gotta keep your head up, oh,<em>  
><em>And you can let your hair down, eh.<em>

_I've got my hands in my pockets,_  
><em>Kickin these rocks.<em>  
><em>Its kinda hard to watch this life go by.<em>  
><em>I'm buyin in the skeptics,<em>  
><em>Skeptics mess with, the confidence in my eyes<em>

_I'm seeing all the angles, starts to get tangled_  
><em>I start to comprimise<em>  
><em>My life and the purpose.<em>  
><em>Is it all worth it,<em>  
><em>Am I gonna turn out fine?<em>

_Oh, you'll turn out fine._  
><em>Fine, oh, you'll turn out fine.<em>

_But you gotta keep your head up, oh,_  
><em>And you can let your hair down, eh.<em>  
><em>you gotta keep your head up, oh,<em>  
><em>And you can let your hair down, eh.<em>

_I know it's hard, know its hard,_  
><em>To remember sometimes,<em>  
><em>But you gotta keep your head up, oh,<em>  
><em>And you can let your hair down, eh.<em>

_Only rainbows after rain_  
><em>The sun will always come again.<em>  
><em>And its a circle, circling,<em>  
><em>Around again, it comes around again.<em>

_Only rainbows after rain_  
><em>The sun will always come again.<em>  
><em>And its a circle, circling,<em>  
><em>Around again, it comes around,<em>

_But you gotta keep your head up, oh,_  
><em>And you can let your hair down, eh.<em>  
><em>you gotta keep your head up, oh,<em>  
><em>And you can let your hair down, eh.<em>

_I know it's hard, know its hard_  
><em>To remember sometimes,<em>  
><em>But you gotta keep your head up, oh,<em>  
><em>And you can let your hair down, eh.<em>

_Keep your head up, oh,_  
><em>And you can let your hair down, eh.<em>  
><em>Keep your head up, oh,<em>  
><em>And you can let your hair down, eh.<em>  
><em>Keep your head up, oh,<em>  
><em>And you can let your hair down.<em>

As the song ended however, I looked to my phone and I saw that there was no message and instantly, despite the cheerful, optimistic tone of the song, doubt filled me because this is what I always assumed would happen.

I have always assumed that I'll be a minor character in life, so I wouldn't have a big enough part to allow for anyone to love me. You know when there is a story about a quirky, yet lovable girl whose the protagonist, then there are others, people like me, who just fill up the space in their life. I assumed I would be part of that filler; no better then a box of packing peanuts. Yes, I'd have a story, a background, and even a reason why I was here, but that wouldn't be good enough. I would still be the girl people discarded, even disliked because I seem to put together whereas some people aren't; all because I don't like to share my feelings, even when they are the most apparent. So I'd be minor. I put up a great mask though, like a shield that I use to hide the truth, so no one can see how bad it feels to be minor. Besides, I'm great at hiding. Perhaps, that's another reason why I don't like Peek-a-Boo, maybe it's not the loosing things that I hate so much, but instead it might be how I hate coming out from my hiding spot. I like to stay behind the curtain and never peek, definitely never boo, don't I? It's easier that way; at least this is what I believe, and because I do believe is the reason why I am in a rut in life that I can't get of. Even though being minor shouldn't even affect me behind my defenses, it does. Neither should being stuck as a minor character, make me feel empty. Undeveloped in the way, that people only see my surface. I've always hated judging people before I know them, but I do it all the time and people do the same to me. They judge me like I'm a book with a pretty cover, but nothing else to it but that, like I'm simple. That's must be why I'm a minor character: I seem simple.

But the word to remember is seem. I try to be as modest of a person as possible, yet I do know that there's more to me then that simple cover. There _has_ to be more than that cover. If there wasn't, I'd be no where in life, and despite feeling like I already am no where, I got to believe that I am _somewhere_. Or at least that I'm going some place. Hopefully, some place special.

And there it is again. Hope. Optimism. The belief that there is more for me, for everyone, some place out there and I just have to find it. I may be a minor character, and I also may not be one either. Who's to know?

I definitely don't.

One thing that I do know it that just at the precise moment I got a text back from Zach. I looked down at my phone and I saw one word: yes

For a moment, I wanted to jump up and down, smiling and laughing like I would have done last year, but even I know that sometimes that you have to leave the past in the past. Let bygones be bygones. Besides, you can't play peek-a-boo with the past, letting it pop back out at you when you're surprised and then hide back away.

Either you have to let it go or maybe take a longer peek. It's one or the other.


	8. Chapter 8 Stumble

**Okay! Big thanks to all of my reviewers! Reviews always brighten my day, so it's nice to receive some. The song Abby sung in end of the last chapter was Keep Your Head Up by Andy Grammer. I have always loved that song! Though it does get stuck in my head annoyingly often...Anyway, thanks to BellaLuz64 who recommended the song Everytime by Britney Spears for Abby to sing. I had been debating what song of Britney's I wanted to use, and that had been one of my favorites. So thanks for the recommendation! :) I will also be opened to song recommendations throughout the story, though I won't always use that song. I'm trying not to stick to only one genre of music because I've always liked how in Glee, there was a wide range of music. However, I do have my personal favorites, which I most likely will use a lot. Still, I'll try to keep an open mind with the songs. I hope you'll like my choices and enjoy the chapter!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 8 Stumble<strong>

**Sam **

I couldn't tell if I made the right decision about not joining Glee club. I knew that I avoided several slushy bathes and a lot of bullying too, but the thing was, when I was in the choir room singing with the rest of the Glee club guys it had felt good. With my dyslexia and abnormally large mouth, I have been used to being at the bad end of an often humiliating joke, so I knew joining Glee club couldn't have been worse then what I've gone through before. On the other hand, this is probably why I didn't want to join Glee club because I _am_ used to being bullied, so I don't need more ways bullies can get to me. Still, I was confused on the situation. It felt a lot like when I'm reading and the dyslexia acts up and makes it harder for me to read. The words jumble together, or in this case, the decision of yes or no goes back and forth in my mind, making it next to impossible to decide. Because the decision was so hard, I've thought about it a lot, however, the decision wasn't at the front of my mind, at least not at this precise moment. Now I am just trying to keep up in shape for football. I had to earn my position as Quarterback and now that I have it, I have to make sure I keep it, especially if the old QB, Finn Hudson, wants his position back. So I decided to exercise and thus, I am running.

The football team was conditioning, and with running around the track my go to, I decided to run. Besides, I don't mind the cheerleader practicing nearby, which is always an added bonus. Anyway, after a few laps around the track, I was sweaty and thirsty so I decided to get a drink.

As I grabbed my water bottle and began to drink, I noticed the other sports teams were practicing. Almost every sports team that played this season was out and about practicing today, and it made sense because of the excellent weather. With big gulps, I drank my water and I was about to go back on the track when I saw a familiar face. I looked at her for a while, trying to figure out where I knew her from, and then it came to me.

"You're the girl who I bumped into a few days ago in the hall," I exclaimed causing the girl to look up at me from where she was tying her shoes. Her bright red hair was what caused to me to recall her because her hair color was so unusual in Ohio.

"Oh yeah!" she said as realization dawned, and then she looked apologetic. "Sorry about that again."

"Not a problem, in hindsight I probably should have been paying more attention too," he said. "But I'm new, so I'm still trying to get the feel of the school."

"Wait, you're new?" she asked and I nodded. "I am too."

I looked at her surprised. I didn't realize this school get's so many new kids.

"Where'd you move from?" I asked.

"New York," she answered and again I was surprised because that was a long ways away. And it was the big apple, New York, it just seemed very different from Ohio. "How about you?"

"Tennessee," I answered. "America at it's best."

"Awesome," she said, smiling at the slogan

"Yeah, but now my dad got a new job here so we moved," I explained. "Is that what happened to you?" I asked, but seeing her worried face I quickly spoke again. "Not to pry or anything," I explained. "It's just seems very far away. New York, I mean."

"About five hundred thirty-five miles," she said with a smile. "Not that I'm counting."

"You miss it?" I asked, sensing the wistfulness in her attitude.

"Definitely," she said, but her tone of voice implied that she didn't want to say anymore. "How about you? Missing Tennessee?"

"All the time," I answered. "But when you have to move you have to move."

"Exactly," she said and then looking on at the track and at me she spoke again. "I probably need to get running, or coach will only have me run more laps."

"Oh, yeah I need to too," I explained, realizing that my coach will probably make me do the same if I don't start too. I'm sure I have a few minutes though. "Are you on the track team?"

"Yep, since I moved here," she answered. "And you're on the football team I assume?"

"Yeah, how'd you know?" I asked.

"You seem like the type."

"Is that a good thing or bad thing?" I questioned, wondering if she meant I was a smelly Neanderthal or if I just looked athletic.

"I'd say good," she declared.

"Oh well, good."

"Good."

"Well, I should get going," I explained. "The Quarterback needs to be in shape."

"You're the QB?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Congratulations then, I hope you do well," she said.

"Thanks and I hope you do well…running," I said. I didn't know what to say. She was on the track team, which means she runs. Anyway, it was the quickest thing I could come up with at the time.

"Thank you," she said with a slightly confused and amused expression. "I'll see you around Sam."

"See you Abby," I said, luckily remembering her name. She turned away and started running towards the rest of the track girls and from her quick sprint to reach them, I could tell that she was a runner. Though, what I mostly was wondering and thinking about is living in New York, especially New York City. I could imagine that must have been pretty cool to live. Definitely more interesting than Tennessee.

However, that thought like the impending Glee club decision was at the back of my mind as Coach whistled us in. Now I was focusing solely on the issue at hand: football.

* * *

><p><strong>Abby<strong>

When I was little girl, I would pretend to be a part of a circus. I would stand on my tiptoes and carefully walk, one foot behind the other, as I pretended I was a tightrope walker. I would teeter sideways and forwards as if I truly was on the rope and it was wobbling, so I would be inches away from falling. Then I would walk across my bedroom back and forth several times, during which my hands would be spread out like I may fall and like they would do any good to help stop the fall. Upon that, albeit imaginary rope, I was fearless. I might as well have been a lion tamer because I felt that brave and the strong right there and then, that I could have done anything. Of course, I wasn't truly on the rope; I was only standing on my tiptoes pretending that I was, but I was a very good pretender, so to me, a young child at the time, it had almost seemed real. I had to be an excellent imaginer because not only was it like I was on the rope, but it was as if I was brave. Strong, too. I was fierce and strong and courageous. I was a heroine right out of one of my books. And all of this bravery I felt simply because of that tightrope, or rather, my imagination. So I am glad that I'm a good imaginer, a pretender. After all, it allows me to imagine many things that I may never get a chance to be, like tightrope-walker, and being brave.

I was a kid at the time, so I was bursting at the seams with creativity and imagination as most kids are. But I am no longer that little, juvenile girl, so I am not as imaginative anymore. Besides, it's obvious now: I know that I wasn't being brave because there was no tightrope. And gaining the extra height of tiptoes doesn't count either as being truly terrifying. Considering that I don't think I ever will walk across a real tightrope, the creativity would have all just been a delusion. It's simple, not being brave, and it is something I should know and bear in mind, even if it's hard for me to grasp. However, there are some things that I just know, like facts, and there's other things that are foreign to me, imaginary. After all, there's a fine line between imagination and truth.

Still, bravery is something that I wish I had. Every single day. My mother must have been brave. After all, she moved to New York from here in humble Lima, Ohio with nothing more than pocket full of cash and a possible shot at being a star. I haven't been here in Ohio for long, but I still know that many of the kids in Glee club dream of going to New York to become a star and I can understand why. My mom proved that there is at least a chance of stardom, even if it didn't work for her, she still got the occasional gig or two, and then of course, she got love and later a new family. I'd say that was a pretty good deal: to be brave and get a family. I might work harder at being brave then.

However, that is exactly the problem. I don't believe that I'm brave. I couldn't do that; leave my home with nothing for some place new. I mean, I did do something along the lines of that moving here to Ohio, but I wasn't like was my mom did. Lima is a small town, not like colossal New York City, and I have my aunt here. I already have a place to start here, but my mom didn't. She was so brave starting anew and I've only ever wished that I could be brave like that too, even if it seems impossible.

Even though I don't believe that I could ever walk on a tightrope, that doesn't mean I don't believe others can. I believed my mom could have and I believe my aunt can because she _is_ daring. She did take me in, when I'm sure she didn't know if she was ready to take care of a kid, but she did anyway. And for the longest of times, she was alone. None of her relatives lived here anymore. The only other family who used to live here were my grandparents, and they can only be here for her in spirit because they had passed way. So yes, I'd call her brave, though I don't think I'd ever tell her that. It would be overly emotional and I simply wasn't in the mood. Especially not in this morning, where she seemed grumpy and sleep was still in my eyes. So instead I talked to her about Ms. Britney Spears.

"What's do you think about Britney Spears?" I asked cautiously.

"Oh so now you're talking to me?" my aunt speculated with annoyance in her eyes. I chose to ignore her though. "Fine," she continued. "I think Britney Spears is a girl with a…troubled past, full of mistakes, but she's trying to make things right. Sometimes that's the best we can hope for, especially when you reach rock bottom. Oh, she's also a good singer, among other talents. There, is that enough for you?"

I smiled a little too sweetly towards her, "Yeah that's fine," I said. "Thank you for your opinion."

"You're welcome," she said. "Now are you going to tell me why the sudden interest in Ms. Britney or do I have to guess?"

Internally, I was assuming that my aunt didn't have a good night's sleep last night because she's being extremely snarky and bitter today, unusually so. Outwardly though, I didn't need her to get ticked off at me anymore than necessary, so I told her the truth.

"I joined Glee club you know," I said waiting for her to nod that she was up to speed and when she did I continued, "And this week Mr. Schuester decided on performing-"

"Britney Spears music?" she assumed.

"No," I corrected. "He wants us to perform Adult Contemporary, but no one wants to do that so we are trying to get him to do Britney Spears songs."

"Oh, I see," she said. "I wonder how the works out for you."

Her tone was filled with sarcasm and doubt, so I instantly got annoyed too.

"Thanks for the support," I said dryly. She must really have had a bad night's sleep. I didn't have time to ask, so I grabbed my lunch and quickly exited out of our apartment before she started to get snippier. Then I walked to school, during which I thought about Glee club, Zach, my aunt, Quinn, even Sam the boy I met again yesterday at track practice. It happened like this everyday. I walked to school and thought and just before I got there I had to pretend again. Pretend that I was normal and okay.

Even though I wasn't.

* * *

><p>Another day of Glee club came, and this time I wasn't a loner. Instead, I sat in between Quinn and Kurt. For a moment I felt included and it actually felt good.<p>

"Alright so here's the deal," Mr. Howell, the dentist, began, "you chew this little capsule and if there's any plaque you missed, the dye will stick to it and turn your teeth blue."

Santana instantly spoke, "Can I just say that you're the hottest dentist I've ever seen?"

"I get that all the time," he assured.

"No, like seriously you can totally drill me whenever you-"

"Santana!" Ms. Pillsbury interrupted chirpily. "Okay, let's stay focused."

"Rock and roll Ems," the dentist said, "and besides this guy." He gestured to Mr. Schuester who looked mildly surprised. "Now this guy's pretty easy on the eyes too. Huh? And you know what? Know matter how hard I tried I bet I couldn't sing and dance like him."

"Ah, probably not," Mr. Schuester said, seeming very proud, and full, of himself.

"Alright, let's take a look at those chompers," Mr. Howell continued.

"Before we chew," Kurt said raising his hand. "I would just like to alert Mr. Schue, that there's been a new addition to the Britney Spears Facebook Campaign."

"Sorry, the answer's still no," Mr. Schuester said looking more tired of Kurt's insistence than sorry. "Capsules guys!"

"Yes, chew away," Ms. Pillsbury said while clapping her hands together. "Chew! Chew!"

Following her instructions, I, along with everyone one else, instantly put the capsule in my mouth.

"This tastes horrible," I said quietly as the taste engulfed my mouth.

"Reminds me of some of the nastier prenatal vitamins I had to take last year," Quinn said while she chewed.

I kept chewing though, until the capsule was dissolved onto my teeth completely. Then I looked around the choir room at everyone else while smiling. Most people had beautiful, white teeth, but there were the few that had bright blue teeth too.

"Oh my god," Kurt explained looking back at Rachel and her blue teeth.

Rachel looked searchingly at everyone in the Glee club, "What?" she asked. Then she pulled out her compact mirror and looked at her teeth. "Ah!" she screamed. "I don't understand, I floss between classes."

"Well sometimes it's genetics," Mr. Howell explained.

I looked over at Quinn to see her teeth white and shiny, but she looked at me with an expression mixed with horror and humor.

"You're teeth!" she exclaimed. "They are _really_ blue."

"Huh?" I questioned. Rachel passed me her mini mirror and I looked into it to see that they were right: my teeth were dreadfully blue. "Seriously?" I said more exasperated than before, and then I sighed. "I hate genetics."

"I think I might be better at brushing and flossing if I could see myself in the mirror," Artie explained.

"There you go, blue tooth," Santana said.

"I don't brush my teeth," explained Britney. "I rinse my mouth out with soda after I eat. I was pretty sure Dr. Pepper was a dentist."

"I got this," Mr. Howell said, coming over to Britney. "Deep bleaching, some scaling, and you'll be as good as new. Right open up." She complied and smiled a weak smile. "No, no close" He turned back to Ms. Pillsbury who gave him an adoring look. Britney opened her mouth again, but her teeth were bad, and bluer than mine.

"Close again," he said.

With that Mr. Howell started explaining to us the importance of brushing and flossing regularly. At the end of the club, he handed out his card to the people with blue teeth. I being among them took one of his cards, even though I was severely embarrassed.

Now I really hated the color blue.

* * *

><p>After I went home that day, I had told my aunt about my alarming blue tooth. She complied with my request to see the dentist. I thought it was necessary because I prided myself with good teeth. I brushed twice daily and flossed too! So she decided that I could get a check-up and cleaning. My biyearly check-up was coming soon anyway; I just had it come a little earlier. So that was how I made it here: Mr. Howell's dentist office. I was lying down on his big reclining chair and he was looking at my teeth scans.<p>

"Excellent," he said, looking over my teeth x-rays. "Not a single cavity. All you'll need is a cleaning and a bleaching."

"Sounds good to me," I said.

"Okay, I'll need to put you under, but don't worry, you'll wake up and your pearly whites will be perfect," he said while he smiled.

I nodded, and inwardly grimaced. I still hated when people referred to things as perfect, even though I did it all the time. I didn't have time though to ponder the many reasons why I hated the word perfect, instead Mr. Howell was putting the anesthetic mask over my mouth and before I knew it, I was breathing in the calming gas.

Suddenly the room went dark as Mr. Howell's anesthetic took over. When my eyes opened again, I was in the same dentist room, only it was different. It was all too white. The walls were pristine and spotless, so was the ground, everything in the room was white.

Then it began to snow.

The snowflakes fell lazily, like they weren't expecting to come so soon, which must have been true considering it was only September. As they fell, I could see them in great detail, each snowflake a different pattern, and each pattern was beautiful. I only briefly wondered how it was snowing in a dentist's office, but I was more amazed by the actual snowflakes to think over it a lot. Then a noise sounded through the once dentist office. It was a light noise like the pitter-patter of rain and it was calming despite the almost eerie feel it held. It reminded me of nights where I would lie in my bed, listening to the rain as I tried to fall asleep. The noise grew stronger though, until I realize what it was…Music. And it was as if, I knew the song and all of its lyrics because as the music continued, I sang.

_Notice me  
>Take my hand<br>Why are we  
>Strangers when<br>Our love is strong  
>Why carry on without me?<br>_

I had gotten up from the reclining chair slowly, and I started to move out of the room. Then I was in the hall, which seemed as white and immaculate as Mr. Howell's room had been. Because I couldn't find anyone, I continued down through the halls. Snowflakes and flurries were everywhere still and as I walked the chilled bits of snows bit into my skin, stinging my eyes which caused tears to fall. I couldn't find anyone, no matter where I looked, so I began running, but even then I couldn't find anyone. _  
><em>

_Everytime I try to fly  
>I fall without my wings<br>I feel so small  
>I guess I need you baby<br>And everytime I see you in my dreams  
>I see your face, it's haunting me<br>I guess I need you baby_

I make believe  
>That you are here<br>It's the only way  
>I see clear<br>What have I done  
>You seem to move on easy<p>

And everytime I try to fly  
>I fall without my wings<br>I feel so small  
>I guess I need you baby<br>And everytime I see you in my dreams  
>I see your face, you're haunting me<br>I guess I need you baby

Somehow I had made it out of the building. But the outside wasn't any different. The world was still white. Still blank. Shapes and things were barely even discernable. This time I looked up though, and I saw it. The sky. It was so beautiful write there and then; I couldn't stop looking at it, despite that snowflakes were getting in my eyes. Suddenly I saw a flash of light that for a moment I thought was a shooting star, but I realized it wasn't a star at all. Instead, it was something much more man made. It was a plane. Regardless that looking up at the plane caused a tearing pain deep inside of me, I couldn't stop looking at it. My gaze was fixed upon it, never wavering. There was nothing I could do, but look up.

_I may have made it rain  
>Please forgive me<br>My weakness caused you pain  
>And this song is my sorry<em>

Ohhhh

At night I pray  
>That soon your face<br>Will fade away

And everytime I try to fly  
>I fall without my wings<br>I feel so small  
>I guess I need you baby<br>And everytime I see you in my dreams  
>I see your face, you're haunting me<br>I guess I need you baby

The music began to dull. And for a moment there was only a sad, bitter silence before I felt like I was being thrust into freezing water and I woke up.

"Whoa," I said lazily. My head still feeling dizzy. I could barely even remember where I was. I could remember the whiteness though. And the sky, the beautiful, wondrous sky. "It was amazing."

Mr. Howell smiled kindly down at me, "I'm sure it was."

That night I had gone to sleep, and for the first time in a while, I dreamt. What I dreamt of, was the most frightening though.

I dreamt of flying.

Of feeling the wind blow back my hair. And everyone below me had seemed like tiny, miniscule ants. It was wonderful, flying, it truly was. But when I woke up the next morning, I had practically jumped out of my bed. The dreams, they hurt more than they helped, so I didn't want to dream anymore.

Now I was in Glee club and I was trying to push away the thought of airplanes and flying way out of my mind. The thoughts were persistent though, as were the dreams; both the dream I had at the dentist's office and last night's dream. It only occurred to me now though, that I had sung a Britney Spears song. Actually, right then my mind felt like a snowstorm blurring facts together, making it hard to concentrate on anything. Still, I had managed to pay attention in Glee club, though it would have helped if the subject at hand was a bit more interesting. Christopher Cross was alright, but compared to the other thoughts in my mind, he wasn't at the top of the list.

"Making Christopher Cross a golden globe, Oscar, and five time Grammy winner," Mr. Schuester explained, though few were listening, as he turned back to face us. Brittany raised her hand and Mr. Schuester called her.

"I would just like to say that from now on, I demand to have every solo in Glee club," she explained simply, causing Rachel to turn to look at her sharply.

"What?" Mr. Schuester said looking completely confused.

"When I had my teeth cleaned," she began and I instantly knew where this was going, "I had the most amazing Britney Spears fantasy. I sang and danced better than her. Now I realize what a powerful woman I truly am."

"I went with her and I had a Britney fantasy too," Santana explained. "Although now that I'm thinking about it, I'm not really sure how our fantasy's combined."

I was wondering how the three of us all had Britney fantasies, even though mine must have been different than theirs.

"See Mr. Schue?" Kurt exclaimed, but Mr. Schue just sighed. "I told you. Britney Spears busted our Brit out of her everyday fragmented haze of confusion and gave her the confidence to step up and perform."

"I'm more talented than all of you. I see that clearly now. It's Brittany," Brittany said, and then said another word that rhymes with ditch and starts with a b.

"Guys, we are not doing Britney Spears. And that's that," Mr. Schue declared.

However, Kurt hadn't given up yet, "Mr. Schue you're letting your own personal issues get in the way of something that we are all telling you that we really want to _do._ I mean, this club regularly pays tribute to pop culture and Britney Spears _is _pop culture. To suggest otherwise is-"

"Kurt!" Mr. Schue interrupted. "I'm done talking about this!"

"Geese, let loose a little, would you? Stop being so freaking uptight all of the time!" Kurt protested.

It suddenly got extremely quiet.

Everyone besides Mr. Schue and Kurt, were looking back and forth between the two, smiling surprised smiles.

"Kurt, I'll see you in the principal's office," Mr. Schuester said solemnly.

Kurt slowly got to his feet and with his pride still in tact walked out of the room. I couldn't help but think Glee club _was_ a lot of drama, but as long as it's not too crazy and not involving me, I can deal with it.

At least, I hope so.

* * *

><p>Long after things had quieted down in Glee club, I had made my way home. I did some homework and read the rest of the night away before realizing the time. Actually, it was my stomach growling that caused me to realize I had skipped dinner and now I was extremely hungry. As I entered the kitchen, I saw my aunt sitting in our small kitchen table. She held an old newspaper in her hand, but she didn't seem particularly taken with it. Recalling how she was yesterday, I wondered if the same thing that was bugging her then, was bugging her now. So I asked.<p>

"Are you okay?" I asked her as I reached into the fridge hoping to find something I could eat. I was more than slightly worried about her because earlier she was so snarky and now she just seemed…depressed.

"Fine," she answered, and again I was reminded how the two of us were like two peas in a pond. Always answering that we're fine, when we are most definitely not.

"Uh-huh," I said, trying to imply that I wasn't buying it.

"I'm fine Abby, truly," she explained. "Hey, aren't I supposed to ask you if you're okay?"

I smiled, "Probably, but I don't mind. Mom used to always ask me and it's nice to ask someone else."

"Yeah," she agreed with a soft smile. Her eyes had a far away look to them, and I hoped she wasn't about to start crying. I couldn't deal with it. Not again. "It's just that it's Tuesday again, and I have always liked Tuesdays, mainly because your mom would always make sure to call me every night on Tuesday, or I'd call her. It was a sisterly way to catch up. A tradition. Now though…I just…" She sat their for a moment, looking confused. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be getting so upset. It's just that the little things you miss, they really get to you."

I nodded and then there was silence in the room for a while. The TV was still on so it caused different patterns of light on the wall, which I watched until finally I spoke and turned to face her.

"You know, if you want I can go in the other room and call you, we can catch up," I said, almost jokingly.

This time she smiled at me and turned to face me. Luckily, there were no tears in the eyes. In fact, for a moment there was a glimmer of happiness.

"As much as I'd like that," she said. "I'd think I'd prefer it if we just talked here. You know what? I can make us some milkshakes."

"Sounds like fun," I said. Then she got up and moved to the refrigerator. We began talking and laughing, catching up. Overall, it seemed like we may have just made a new tradition. And as we continued to talk, I couldn't help but feel good. It wasn't the same feeling as being brave, but it was close.

My aunt was right though: Sometimes that's all we can hope for.

* * *

><p><strong>Also, thanks for all the support from you guys about my friend. She was an amazing writer, so she was opinionated, still it hurt and considering that I've never told anyone how bad that felt, it was nice to get some support. <strong>

**I hoped you liked the chapter and please review!**


	9. Chapter 9 Lungs

**Chapter 9 Lungs**

Before I moved here, I wasn't always a cheerleader. In fact, I didn't fill the popular girl persona until middle school. I used to be the quiet girl. The wallflower. The girl everyone noticed, even liked, but was never really that out-there. It's almost funny because how I _used_ to be is now how I am. I was always confined in the barriers that held me, and I still am.

Back then, I was average. Average looks, average hair, average everything really. I was smart, yes, but not top of the class. It took me a while to blossom, to realize all that I could be. It had started with my brain. I hadn't always liked school, I mean, who does like it _all_ of the time? I started liking school more when I started accumulating more friends, more popularity, mostly, when I realized that I had all these thoughts in my head, but I never shared them. The thoughts weren't like the mean, nasty things you shouldn't say aloud, they were normal things, normal observations, all things that I hadn't wanted to speak. One day, I realized that I could speak out, say all of those things inside my head, and that there was nothing there stopping me. I could just talk. It was simple really; I started to converse and express my feelings. I realized there was no reason to not talk to when I can.

But right now, it feels like I'm back in elementary school.

So I'm quiet. I am not a talker. It is as simple as before: now I don't talk. I can't.

On a brighter note, I have begun to begin better acquainted with the Glee club. That required some talking at least.

"Hey, Abby do you want to sit with us?" Mercedes asked as she walked up to me on her way to sit down at the lunch table with Kurt, Artie, Tina, and Mike.

"What? Oh, okay," I said, stumbling over my words. I had been standing there holding my brown paper bag while I faced the lunchroom for a long time. I hadn't known where to sit, which was a foreign concept to me, considering that as a cheerleader I always had a place to go. Honestly, I was relieved when Mercedes asked me to sit with them.

So I followed her to their table like it was the most natural thing to do, and for a moment, I believed that it could sometime in the future become a habit.

"So how is the Britney campaign going?" I asked Kurt.

"Not so great," Kurt grumbled. "After going to Figgins, I'm considering changing my approach to convince Mr. Schuester."

"I'm sure you will find a way," I assured.

"It seems doubtful," he muttered.

I grimaced because he seemed very resilient in his self-doubt. Still, I had to try to persuade him that it would work because I don't want to think that more people are pessimists than optimists.

So I tried my best, "Well, things always do, but then sometimes you find out that they are not as hopeless after all."

Kurt smiled weakly at me after I said that. Then I joined Tina's and Mercedes conversation and we talked and ate for the rest of the lunch period. They really were a good group of friends, and I felt lucky for a moment. It was nice. Sure, I wasn't exactly engaging into conversation, but I still was talking and having communication with people. I wasn't closing myself off.

I just hoped that Kurt knew what I said, was what I truly believed.

What I had to believe.

"Well Rachel, congratulations," began Santana as Glee club began. "Normally you dress like the fantasy of a perverted Japanese business man, with a very dark, specific fetish, but I actually dig this look. Yay!" She clapped her hands together lightly, which earned a skeptical glance from me. I personally didn't know what to think of her outfit. It was better than what she normally wears, but it was a little too…over the top?

"Thank you," she said.

"I think what Santana is trying to say to Rachel, though I risk explosion by saying so," Kurt began, and I smiled softly because he hadn't given up, "is that it seems that Britney has really helped you blossom." Mr. Schuester did not look happy with Kurt's announcement, in fact he looked quite mad. "That's all."

"Wait, Rachel is that true?" Mr. Schuester asked as Kurt and Mercedes did their famous handshakes of fluttering fingers. "I mean you are sort of dressing differently."

"Bouncy, bouncy, bouncy," Artie exclaimed, more than agreeing with Mr. Shue's statement.

"Hey!" Finn said pointing his finger at Artie. It was cute that he was so over protective of his girlfriend, but he did have the right considering how she looked. Artie only looked down at the ground in what I assumed was mock shame.

"All I know is that I had a very vivid Britney experience at the dentist's, and since then it's made me feel free to get out of my own way," she explained. "I think I've just always been afraid to dress like a pretty girl because I've never really felt like one before. Not I realize that it's okay to feel that way about yourself now and then. Maybe it's a good thing."

"It's such a good thing. I can't believe it," Britney agreed.

I was almost jealous of them as they agreed on the self-empowerment their dentist dreams gave them. My dream wasn't anything like that. Instead of self empowerment, I got a nightmare.

All of a sudden we were interrupted by Sue Sylvester.

"William, a word," she said, caused many questioning glances at the sudden urgency to talk with Mr. Schue. It was Sue though, so I didn't know what to suspect.

Words though, I understand words, and I know what to expect from words.

So many, many words are out there. We have words to describe ourselves, and words to describe each other. Sometimes neither of those words is pleasant or good. But they are words.

Some studies show that, on average, people know anywhere from 12,000 to 20,000 words. Some people know even more; some even less. I've always thought of myself as having a wide vocabulary. I did have an excellent English teacher in the eighth grade. Sure, my freshman teacher was equally qualified, as is my current English teacher, but there was something special about my eighth grade English teacher, Ms. Sherwood. She was a younger teacher, around thirty years old, but that only made it easier to relate to her. Despite that she is one of my favorite teachers of all time; she was hard on her students. She gave out piles of homework that included various papers, posters etc. yet people still took her class and were excited about it because she was _that_ good of a teacher. Even though she gave out so much homework.

Ms. Sherwood had a catchphrase. Whenever we were confused about something in school she would have us recite simply, "It's a conundrum." Ultimately, we would find out the solution to the problem and no longer would it be a conundrum.

The puzzle would always be solved. That's one of the reasons I liked her class, when there was a problem, there was always a solution. It was simple. It worked. I liked that process because I could always find a way out. I used to think that I was such a good thinker, that if I thought long enough, I could get myself out of any predicament, whatsoever. Of course, that wasn't always true. I was stumped as often as the next guy, but I still believed that I could find my way out of any situation.

I had hoped.

I had believed that my thinking, hoping, I could get through anything.

But it the end I can't think my way out of everything. It's quite a conundrum.

But back to words. Books had words, and I loved books. When I was younger, and someone asked me what I want to be when I grow up, I would sometimes say an author. It sounded good. I could write and write and let people hear my stories. Maybe I would even write song lyrics. I had hoped that I was talented enough to do that: become an author. I wanted to grow up and write amazing stories that people would love to read. Most of all, I wanted to be a writer for kid's books because I believed that in the world of children's books everything was good.

Again, I had hoped.

Yet, one thing that I can't hope on is books. Books were concrete. They had words that were always there. You can't doubt books, you can't hope about books. I mean, you can, you can hope the characters do certain things or act certain ways, but at the end of they day, books were books and you can't change them. Hence why I like books so much. Hence why I liked the library so much.

So that was why I was here, in a library. Well, that was one of the reasons. The main reason was my first tutoring session was starting today and it was in the library. So after Glee club had ended, I had come here, to the library.

I had no idea who I was supposed to be tutoring. The slip of paper I got about tutoring just said to go to the library at a certain time and that the person I was supposed to be tutoring was supposed to be there, and he was.

The first person I saw in the library was a girl. She was my height, big rimmed glasses and had brown hair. After asking her quietly (because we were in a library) if she was waiting for a tutor, and receiving a no, I continued onward. I passed another two boys, but they weren't waiting for a tutor either. I considered giving up, assuming that the person who I was supposed to be tutoring wasn't here, and wasn't coming. But that's when I noticed the one desk that I had missed.

It was the farthest desk to the back of the library, in the comics section. It was situated in a corner, but there was enough room for four chairs. He was sitting right there and instantly I knew.

"Sam?" I speculated as I walked to the desk.

"Huh?" he asked as he looked up from whatever he was reading. "Abby?" he questioned scrunching his face up in confusion, "wait are you the tutor?"

"I'm afraid so," I said smiling the slightest bit. I had been worried that I would end up tutoring someone I didn't know, let alone didn't like, but even though I didn't know Sam that well, my first impression of him was a good one, so I figured he be as good as any person for me to tutor.

"I didn't realize that I would be tutored by someone in my class," he said. "You are a sophomore right?"

"Yeah," I said. "And I thought I would be tutoring a freshman too."

"Well, I'm fine with the arrangement," he said grinning.

"Seems that it will work," I said as I settled into my seat and pulled out my book. "So shall we begin?"

"Sure," he said, then more nervously, "but I have to warn you, I'm dyslexic so I'm not always able to go as fast as most people."

"That's okay, we'll take it as slowly as you need," I assured. "My brother was dyslexic you know. Not that it makes me an expert or anything, but I can help in that aspect at least a little."

"Cool," he said. "Does your brother go to school here?"

"Nope, he's out of high school," I explained. "But when he was still in school, he had problems with school because of his dyslexia. He was able to maintain good grades though, so I think you can too."

"I hope," he said.

I nodded then grinned, at least someone else can hope.

"Well, let's get to work and see."

And we began to work. We started with math: Geometry. And we took things slow. I didn't tell Sam, but for me slow worked too. I was thinker and the slower I went means the more time to think. And I know that with more time to think there's more time to think about the bad things, but I could deal with the bad things, at least for right now. I could deal and I could do math. I can do it. And I help. That seems as good of a combination to me as any, so I kept with it. Besides, I liked math. It was one of my favorite subjects in school, always has been. It was funny in a way. My mother had been horrible at math, and my brother had inherited the gene, which along with his dyslexia was not a good combination, but I was the lucky one, I got my father's math genes, and even though he wasn't particularly great at math either, I still was an alright mathematician and math worked well with me. Science? That is a whole other story. I was _not_ a good scientist at all. That's one thing I didn't inherit from my father who was an exceptional scientist. But we were doing math, not science, so I figured science wouldn't matter for the time being.

So I just focused on math and equation after equation we went until I felt like I was getting this tutoring thing down. I had never been a great teacher, but here I was tutoring. It seemed quite contradictory, but then again, my whole life seems contradictory at times with one thing happening that just completely erases the other. But right now I didn't have to worry about any of that stuff. Now it was just A squared plus B squared equals C squared. And I could deal with that, especially as we were going slow.

Despite going slow, the time went fast (if that makes any sense) and eventually I looked up at the clock, and punctual me realized that I must be going.

"Oh dang," I said. I really had been immersed into the world of mathematics, so much so that I had forgotten the time. "I have to get going or I'm going to be late for Glee club." That's when I realized that I just admitted that I was in the Glee club and after you say that unless you're a Cheerio or a football jock, such as someone like me, people tend to ignore you. However, I figured at the Fall Homecoming Assembly it would be obvious enough that I was in the Glee club, so it wouldn't change much to admit it now or then, when he sees me performing with the group.

"You're in the Glee club?" he asked, and I cringed, waiting for the onslaught of taunts about the club from him. Not that he seemed like the type to bully, but it seemed like everyone hated the Glee club in this school so who knows.

"Yeah," I admitted. "I just joined."

"Cool," he said.

"Cool?" I questioned. I really had been expecting at least some scorn for my choice of club.

"Yeah, well it must take a lot of guts to join it, let alone sing," he explained.

"Oh," I said, blushing the smallest amount. "Thanks."

"I was going to join," he explained. "But I chickened out."

"Why?" I inquired. "If you don't mind me asking."

"I weighed the pros and cons and figured I'd rather not be slushied. Besides, look at Finn, the old Quarterback, and the rest of the guys on the team bully him any chance they get. I only got the position because Finn was kicked off the team," he explained.

"Hey, don't say that," I said. "I'm sure you would have given Finn a run for his money anyway." Though, I didn't have any proof of the matter because I hadn't seen him play.

"Thanks," he said grinning solemnly, "I don't know about that though."

"You're the quarterback now aren't you? That has to count for something," I said. "Anyway, I really have to go. We have to plan the Fall assembly still and who knows how that is going to turn out. But how about we meet up for another tutoring session Thursday same time and place? That work for you?"

"Sounds good," he said. "Now I have to get to football practice."

"Have fun," I said. "Try not to get in the head."

He smiled, "Great advice."

"I try my best," I said. "But really Sam, you'll do great and just you wait until your first game and everyone will be your name. That's going to feel pretty great."

"I guess you're right," he said, albeit a little smugly.

I laughed, "I'll see you around Sam."

"Bye Abby."

I turned around and speedily made my way to Glee club. Hopeful that we'd come up for an agreeable idea for the assembly.

Again, I hoped.

I managed to make it Glee club in time and just early enough to hear the boy's new announcement.

"I was pretty sure Artie's legs don't work," Quinn said looking confused as the rest of us. Artie's new announcement had come as quite a shock to me and I'm sure everyone else too. I mean, he was in a wheelchair, so I had assumed that it would be impossible to play football, but who knows. The world is full of impossibilities.

"Did you get a legs transplant?" Brittany asked.

"Nope," Artie contradicted. "My teammates can push my chair like a battering ram."

"Yeah, there's no rules against it, we checked," Finn assured.

"And I have Brittney Spears to thank," Artie said proudly.

"You're welcome," Brittany said, even though I'm fairly certain that he didn't mean her. Fairly. I wasn't the only though, as I saw Santana give her a confused look too.

"Brittany plus nitrous gave me an amazing idea, and it gave me the nerve to tell Coach Bieste that I Finn and I both really want to be one the team," he explained.

Instantly, Rachel swiveled to face her boyfriend, "Wait you're back on the football team?" she asked worriedly. I didn't understand why she would be so worried because Finn was her boyfriend, shouldn't she be happy for him? Though, I'm sure there is some hidden Rachel Berry reason, so I decided not to bother.

"Yeah," he said proudly answering her question.

"Suddenly, you're way hotter to me. Weird," Santana said flirtatiously, and I really wanted to let out an annoyed sigh because I knew she was just doing that to anger Rachel. I realized that this was probably the reason for Rachel not wanting Finn to join the team.

"Wait, I don't get it," Puck said. "How come everyone's having Brittany Spears fantasies?"

"That is a good question," I said. I mean really how many fantasies have there been now? Five? Six, if you count that Brittany had a fantasy twice.

"The nitrous oxide dentists use is a mild hallucinogen," Artie explained smartly. "Studies have proved that it produces vivid dreams. Often, the last thing the patient thinks of. The subconscious moves to the forefront and since we have all been thinking so much of Brittany, it all stands to reason."

Mr. Schuester had walked into the room and I, along with everyone else, reclined in their chairs, waiting for another boring day where we learn about another adult contemporary musician.

"Okay guys, listen up!" Mr. Schue called.

Before he could say anything more, Kurt raised his hand again. "Mr. Schue if I may," he began.

"Kurt," Mr. Schue stopped. "I overheard what you guys were just talking about and I know what you are going to say. The answer is no," he said enunciating each word carefully. Everyone sighed at his declaration because we had all expected it and now he was just confirming what we had thought he would say, but then he spoke again. "No, I'm not going to stand in the way anymore. If you guys want to do Brittany at this year's homecoming assembly, I'm fine with it."

Instantly everyone erupted into loud "yes's," especially Kurt who sat there, looking very proud because of his campaigning skills. I smiled and hoorayed with everyone too mostly because we wouldn't have another boring Glee club talking about Michael Bolton.

"I know and more than that, I'm going to perform with you," he exclaimed happily, causing everyone to look at him like he was crazy. He just continued to laugh, "Right?"

No, Mr. Schuester, all I can say is not right. At all.

The performance was about to begin. Everyone in Glee club, including Mr. Schue was behind the curtain. I was nervous, extremely nervous. This was my first performance and this school, and with a Glee club like this, who knows how it's going to end.

"Excited?" Quinn asked quietly.

"Something like that," I replied, biting my lip nervously.

"You'll be fine," Mercedes whispered. "It will take you a second to get used to things, but then you'll get in a rhythm and things will be good. You just got to believe that they will."

I smiled anxiously at Mercedes and Quinn, thankful for their support. Because I was so nervous. Still, I managed to listen to what Mercedes.

I had to believe in myself. I had to hope that I could do it. And I could. I can hope and I can perform.

I know I can.

And just like that, I heard Principal Figgins accented voice announcing us.

"Quiet please students," he said. "First, students who ate the ravioli today, and are not up to date on their tetanus shots, should see the nurse immediately." Instantly, I was glad that I was a brown paper bag girl most days. "Welcome to our Homecoming Pep Assembly because of last's week grizzly train derailment, it is on hiatus until further notice. But do we ever have a treat for you. Fresh off there last place finish at Regional's, please give it up for the New Directions."

As the music began, Brittany began dancing across the stage.

"_Baby, can't you see? I'm calling. A guy like you should wear a warning,"_ she sang as everyone began dancing. We began doing dance moves, some of which I'm not sure should be allowed in school. Still, our performance began without a hitch.

_"It's dangerous, I'm fallin'," _sand Rachel and Brittany together.

"I love you Brittany Spears!" called a student from across the gym.

"There's no escape, I can't wait. I need a hit. Baby, give me it. You're dangerous, I'm lovin' it."

Mr. Schuester came out onto the stage now and began singing,_"Too high, can't come down. Losing my head. Spinning 'round and 'round. Do you feel me now?"_

"With a taste of your lips, I'm on a ride. You're toxic, I'm slipping under. With a taste of a poison paradise. I'm addicted to you, don't you know that you're toxic?"

we chorused as we began dancing with our bowler hats. The students were more into the song as we went along and I couldn't help, but feel ironically jazzed at everyone's enthusiasm.

"I wanna be that hot!" someone shouted.

"_And I love what you do. Don't you know that you're toxic?" _By now we were in a triangle shape, with Mike at the point. The crowd was erupting with cheers and everyone seemed to really be enjoying the song.

"It's getting late, to give you up .I took a sip from my devil's cup. Slowly, it's taking over me. Too high, can't come down. It's in the air. And it's all around. Oh, can you feel me now?."

"With a taste of your lips, I'm on a ride. You're toxic, I'm slipping under  
>With a taste of a poison paradise<br>I'm addicted to you, don't you know that you're toxic?

And I love what you do  
>Don't you know that you're toxic?<br>Don't you know that you're toxic?

With a taste of your lips, I'm on a ride  
>You're toxic, I'm slipping under<br>With a taste of a poison paradise  
>I'm addicted to you, don't you know that you're toxic?<p>

And I love what you do  
>Don't you know that you're toxic?<p>

With a taste of poison paradise  
>I'm addicted to you, don't you know that you're toxic?<p>

Intoxicate me now  
>With your lovin' now<br>I think I'm ready now

Intoxicate me now  
>With your lovin' now<br>I think I'm ready now

Intoxicate me now  
>With your lovin' now<br>I think I'm ready  
>I think I'm ready now<p>

As the last song was sung, the fire alarm was rang and just like that our cheering crowd, began stampeding out of the building.

"Run the other way!" Sue shouted. We all stood in complete shock at the scene unfolding before us.

As everyone continued to flood out of the gym in pure panic, I winced. Yes, the performance did end, not badly, but differently than I had expected it to. But still, I didn't mess up. I managed to hold on to hope long enough to get through the performance. I had hoped and it had worked out. The two foreign concepts that hadn't seemed to work lately actually did. So despite everyone's shocked faces, I was almost happy. I had been confident and now things _weren't_ bad.

Since the plane crash, I thought things were always going to be bad. Still, I had to put on this costume where I was an optimist. Where I was a cheery person. Until now I realized that a costume and the real thing aren't that different. A costume is just something that you put on you to advance what is already there. To change it. But the thing with the costume is that a costume is temporary, you take it off eventually.

If I have already taken off the metaphorical costume of an optimist, then why am I still thinking about tomorrow? Why don't I just stop? Is it possible that I could just be this happy optimistic person?

To quote Ms. Sherwood, "It's a conundrum."

* * *

><p><strong>I hoped you like the chapter. The song was Toxic by Britney Spears. I arranged the lyrics a little differently, so it looks a little funny, but I'm trying it out. I'm sorry I haven't updated for a while. I was sick for a long time and then my Netflix account stopped working, but finally I wrote it and now I can update! :) <strong>


	10. Chapter 10 In and Out

**Chapter Ten In and Out**

"Congratz Finn," Quinn said cheerily as she came up to him and put her hand on his arm. "You're back on the team, and I'm head cheerleader again. Some kind of symmetry, don't you think? With all the nastiness between you and I behind us, I think we should be together. We'd be a shoo-in for homecoming king and queen. So what do you say?" She began casually leaning against the locker. "You and me, eight 'o'clock, Breadstix?"

Finn paused for a moment before speaking again, "Look, I'd be lying if I said I didn't have feelings for you…Probably always will." Then he closed his locker. "But I'm not going to get back together with you. There's someone else," he explained, and Quinn looked down suddenly, "and you know who that is. I'm asking for you to respect that. I'm sorry."

Then quickly, before he could say anything more, he left Quinn standing there; alone.

Not letting the rejection phase her, Quinn kept on moving, and she walked to Rachel, who had been watching the two talk. Rachel rubbed her arm nervously as Quinn approached her, expecting the worse, but as Quinn stood next to her, she said the exact thing that she wanted Quinn to confirm for her.

"I said what you wanted me to, he shot me down," she explained, then trying to keep her face neutral. "So congratz, it looks like he really loves you."

With that she left, only then letting her tears fall.

* * *

><p><strong>Abby<strong>

I couldn't believe it. I could not believe it. Here I was, again. The sky was looming over me, covering me, like a huge blanket. It muffled my screams as I tried to breathe. Then I was suffocating, everything was surrounding me, encompassing me in blue. And just when I thought I couldn't breathe anymore, I woke up.

With a gasp that caused the student next to me to look at me strangely, I leaned forward in my desk.

I had fallen asleep in class.

Me, the person who has always tried to be a good listener and be patient when the teacher was in class. I have never fallen in sleep during class before. Never. Not even during history class a few years ago when we had to watch an ancient VHS movie about the early colonies. I had been sitting in the background and the narrator's voice droned on and on, but still I hadn't fallen asleep. But here I was, having just woken up from falling asleep, in class. Luckily, no one had noticed, and once again, I thanked the heavens that I didn't snore. Still, I couldn't believe that I had fallen asleep in class. It wasn't even that boring of class! Okay, yes it was, this history teacher seemed about ninety years old, and I wouldn't be surprised if she, herself had fallen asleep, but still. I don't fall in sleep during class. I don't have anything against people who do (in fact, I find it highly amusing), but I have never fallen asleep in class.

Changes must come in big groups, I guess.

Because I hadn't wanted to fall asleep again, I quickly rose my hand and was excused to go to the bathroom. This way, I figured that I could splash some water on my face, and wake up.

What I wasn't expecting was what would happen as I reached the bathroom.

I opened the door and came to the sink, and then I looked back at my reflection.

I almost cried.

This girl wasn't me. There was nothing wrong with her, but she wasn't me. I was happy, optimistic. I had friends and I was popular. Yes, in the beginning, I hadn't always been like that, I had been quiet, but I guess that for so long, I've been that happy, exciting girl, that falling out of tandem made me feel lost. Not like me at all. Like this wasn't me.

But again, I looked back at the mirror, and I knew I couldn't change it. I couldn't, no matter what I did. Who was reflected in that mirror was me, there was no changing it.

I kept telling myself not to cry, especially not now when I was at school, but that was when I heard it; another sniffling, alike my mine, but more distant, like the scuffling of feet on the floor. It was almost like scraping of the big weeping willow trees as their branches blew in the wind.

I had always loved those trees, for they were so lush and whimsical, but rarely I had seen them. But that was what the noise reminded me of, exactly that. It was a weeping willow tree.

Of course, it wasn't actually a tree (I don't think that would have fit in the bathroom), but it was a weeping of its own.

I looked under one of the stalls and that's when I saw feet, in fact, I recognized those shoes. They were like the ones the Cheerios wore.

Hesitantly, I spoke, "Hello?" Only then did I realize my voice was still scratchy from almost crying, so it came out raspier than I would have thought.

At first the girl didn't speak, until finally a small voice, that I could tell, like me, was used to being strong, spoke.

"What do you want?" the voice asked and instantly I knew who it was.

"Quinn?" I asked.

Hesitantly, she spoke, "Y-yes." Then she opened the door and looked up at me. "Abby!" she said in surprise. "I didn't realize it was you." She quickly dried a tear with the back of her and then trying to look like she wasn't just crying, she spoke up again. "What are you doing here? Don't you have class?"

"I could ask you the same thing," I murmured, also trying to look like I wasn't crying, but that was the thing about me. I've said it before: when I don't want to cry, when I tell myself not to, I cry almost always.

"Are you crying?" she asked.

"No," I half-lied as I turned away from her and moved to mirror, a few tears had actually fallen, but I had barely noticed. "It's not that obvious is it?" I looked up at my blue eyes to see that now they were red and puffy. I was not one of those girls who looked pretty, even nice, when I cried. I wasn't like Quinn in that aspect, who still looked pretty despite that some of her makeup was messed up. Still, mine was worst. As I had rubbed my eyes, my makeup was smeared completely. Not that I wore a lot of makeup. I had never liked makeup or was even good at putting it on, but still had worn it. Lately though, I just hadn't seen the point. Makeup was just like a costume of its own.

"A little," she admitted. "But, here I'll fix your makeup."

I opened my mouth in protest, but that's when I realized that Quinn was mostly trying to avoid that she too had been crying.

"Okay."

She quickly pulled out her makeup from her purse and started fixing mine. For a while, she worked on me and didn't allow me to look at the mirror. I wasn't expecting anything great though. I had never felt beautiful before, not truly. Yes, I was cheerleader, so I had been a level of pretty, maybe I was even considered to be pretty, but _I _had never felt beautiful before.

Finally Quinn finished though, and I looked in the mirror.

The baggy, red eye lids were gone. My mascara was darker and thicker than it usually was, but I sort of liked it like that because it accented my eyes. My lips were a nude color, more light pink than anything. My skin was still pale. It always seemed to be. But someone Quinn had made me look attractive.

"Thanks."

"You're actually very pretty Abby," she said, but didn't say anything. I never really knew how to react to compliments anyway. It didn't matter though because Quinn spoke again. "I wasn't crying," she explained slowly. "I just…I just am having a bad day."

"I know what's it like."

"Yeah, we all have a few miserable days don't we? Those stupid moments where we feel alone."

"I hate those days," I expressed truthfully. "They're unbearable!"

"But we have to continue on," Quinn said. "We have to take deep breaths and face the world."

I smiled as I looked at both of our reflections once more.

Sometimes we just have to breathe.

* * *

><p>After the bathroom incident, I couldn't bare to see anyone, at least not for the time being. So I went to the only place that I felt I could be alone. Where it was quiet: the library.<p>

As I shuffled through the aisles of books, I let my fingertips brush against the coarse covers of the books. Debating between whether I should pick one of the books and read or if the just the loneliness was enough to get my mind back on track. In the end, I decided to not do anything really. I just stood there for a moment, my back against the library wall as I waited. I don't exactly know what I waited for, it could have been nothing, or it could have been something, anything. But in the end, I decided I was done waiting, so I got up from the wall and I left the library, even though my thoughts were still jumbled like some one put them in a blender on high. Now everything was in disarray. Even I was in disarray.

One thought was clear though. It was the only light in the middle of something so dark: Life wasn't perfect.

But then, no matter how much I wished or how much I tried, it never was perfect, never could be perfect.

From the library, I moved to the track. I didn't run on it; I was still in my normal clothes. Besides, I felt worn out and tired, at that moment, I couldn't run if my life depended on it. Everything about me was just so worn out. I wanted to just rest, and yes, I just wanted to breathe. But not out of exhaustion like after a long run, but out of simply being worn out. The exhaustion of everything; of life. Of it all. Everything.

I was just so worn out.

But I continued to breathe.

In and out.

Though it felt like nothing could change, I hoped that it would, eventually. I hoped and hoped and hoped. And I breathed in and out. I calmed down when life was hard and I waited for the hardships to pass.

And then a thought crossed my mind and I couldn't help but smile.

The thought was simple and straightforward. It was different.

I was different now. And I was okay with that.

I had to be, so I was.

"Hey Abby!" a voice called and I turned around to see who it was.

"Hi Sam," I greeted. "What's up?"

"You know the usual," he said. "Oh, I saw your Brittney Spears performance. It was…well it…"

I laughed, "Its okay, I know that the song was a very…different performance to say the least. I hope you didn't get trampled at the end."

"I was lucky; I made it out without a scratch," he said.

"Good."

"Do the Glee club's performance always end that way?" he questioned jokingly, but I thought of the question reasonably.

"It seems like it."

"Maybe I made the right decision then," he mused.

"Well, I like to think of the performances as just one little thing that are a part of the Glee club. I like the family aspect," I said because it was the truth. It was more than the truth. It was the part of Glee club that I so desperately needed because it is that feeling of support that everyone needs, and that feels impossible to live without.

I know what its like to feel alone. Like there's nothing out there for you, no threads of life connecting you to some one else. I know what it feels like to think that maybe the reason why you are so alone, is because of you. As if it is your fault, that you are alone. Like I did something horribly and now here I was: alone. But only, that wasn't how it was. Not anymore. I had something there, that cord that doesn't waver. That connection, and I wasn't going to let it go anytime time soon.

"Yeah," he said. "I guess that's a major factor."

I smiled, "You have no idea."

Then the bell rang and it was time for Glee club.

* * *

><p>Before class began I sat down next to Quinn, then Mr. Schuester walked in.<p>

"Alright," Mr. Schuester began until he saw Rachel's hand up.

"I have a song that I prepared for the class," she explained softly.

"Sorry Rachel," Mr. Schue interjected. "No Britney. I'm really happy that her music has inspired so many of you, even if that inspiration was brought about because of a dangerous narcotic. I think we have all come to appreciate her music and celebrity so much more this week, but honestly, she's not us."

Kurt started shaking his head, "I'm devastated. I can't believe we did only one Britney number."

"I was actually going to do something for our original assignment last week: adult contemporary," Rachel explained, causing me to perk up. Personally, I had always known that, although Britney was a big inspiration, she still wasn't me. Mr. Schuester was right, she's not us. "But this is just a little bit more, young adult."

"Oh, great Rachel. Let's here it," Mr. Schuester said.

Rachel got to her feet and went to the center of the room.

"I'd like to dedicate this song to my boyfriend: Finn," she started. "I was wrong. I shouldn't try to control you. I just have never been this happy before, and I realize that I was trying to hold on to how you were making me feel so much, that I was strangling you in my hands like a little bird. I get now, that in order to make this relationship work, I have to open my hands and let you fly."

"Wait Finn can fly?" Brittany asked, confused to say the least.

"Really?" Kurt asked looking at her incredulously.

"Wait I thought I was the only one getting the solos from now on," she continued. "Next week I'm going to be performing a musical number my Ke$ha."

Mercedes shushed her as the music began playing.

_When I was younger I saw my daddy cry and curse at the wind_  
><em>He broke his own heart as I watched as he tried to reassemble it<em>  
><em>And my momma swore she would never let herself forget<em>  
><em>And that was the day that I promised I'd never sing of love<em>  
><em>If it does not exist<em>

_But darlin', you are the only exception_  
><em>You are the only exception<em>  
><em>You are the only exception<em>  
><em>You are the only exception<em>

_Maybe I know somewhere deep in my soul that love never lasts_  
><em>And we've got to find other ways to make it alone, keep a straight face<em>  
><em>And I've always lived like this, keeping a comfortable distance<em>  
><em>And up until now I'd have sworn to myself that I'm content with loneliness<em>  
><em>[ From: .]<em>  
><em>Because none of it was ever worth the risk<em>

_You are the only exception_  
><em>You are the only exception<em>  
><em>You are the only exception<em>  
><em>You are the only exception<em>

_I've got a tight grip on reality_  
><em>But I can't let go of what's in front of me here<em>  
><em>I know you're leaving in the morning when you wake up<em>  
><em>Leave me with some kind of proof it's not a dream<em>

_You are the only exception_  
><em>You are the only exception<em>  
><em>You are the only exception<em>  
><em>You are the only exception<em>

_You are the only exception_  
><em>You are the only exception<em>  
><em>You are the only exception<em>  
><em>You are the only exception<em>

_And I'm on my way to believing_  
><em>Oh, and I'm on my way to believing<em>

I was glad we were down with Britney. Not because I had anything against her, but because she just wasn't my style.

And at the end of the day, I think people do what they know, what's a part of them.

What they can do.

* * *

><p>After Glee club ended, I had asked Quinn to come to the auditorium. She had looked at me, very uncertain, but went along with it anyway. I had a song planned.<p>

"What are we doing here?" Quinn asked.

I sighed, "I hate to say it, but Berry gave me some inspiration to sing this song genre." I began as we climbed up the steps to the stage. "You seem like a good person Quinn, a good friend, and I know what it's like to have a bad day and to be let down. To feel like there's no one there for you. So I guess in a non-awkward way, I'm going to dedicate this song, to you. Well, I guess considering you're the only one here, you're the only one to dedicate it to, but still I-"

"Just sing the song Abby," Quinn said smiling softly. She looked a little teary-eyed from earlier and honestly, I felt sorry her. She was had been over her head. Like me, so now I was singing this song. Mostly, though it may be selfish to think this, I was singing it for myself. To tell myself to calm down. Breathe.

Besides, normally for me to sing solo in front of someone takes a lot of courage, but I'd like to think that I was able to do it know, a little bit because of Britney. I know my dream hadn't been about self-empowerment, but in a way it was. It was like the dream was telling me to face my fears. Confront them. And if I have troubles, pause for a moment, stare up at the sky, remember, and breathe.

So here I was singing. Confronting one fear, however small.

And with that, I took a gulp of air and began singing.

_2 AM and she calls me 'cause I'm still awake,_  
><em>"Can you help me unravel my latest mistake?,<em>  
><em>I don't love him. Winter just wasn't my season"<em>  
><em>Yeah we walk through the doors, so accusing their eyes<em>  
><em>Like they have any right at all to criticize,<em>  
><em>Hypocrites. You're all here for the very same reason<em>

_'Cause you can't jump the track, we're like cars on a cable_  
><em>And life's like an hourglass, glued to the table<em>  
><em>No one can find the rewind button, girl.<em>  
><em>So cradle your head in your hands<em>  
><em>And breathe... just breathe,<em>  
><em>Oh breathe, just breathe<em>

_May he turned 21 on the base at Fort Bliss_  
><em>"Just a day" he said down to the flask in his fist,<em>  
><em>"Ain't been sober, since maybe October of last year."<em>  
><em>Here in town you can tell he's been down for a while,<em>  
><em>But, my God, it's so beautiful when the boy smiles,<em>  
><em>Wanna hold him. Maybe I'll just sing about it.<em>

_Cause you can't jump the track, we're like cars on a cable,_  
><em>And life's like an hourglass, glued to the table.<em>  
><em>No one can find the rewind button, boys,<em>  
><em>So cradle your head in your hands,<em>  
><em>And breathe... just breathe,<em>  
><em>Oh breathe, just breathe<em>

_There's a light at each end of this tunnel,_  
><em>You shout 'cause you're just as far in as you'll ever be out<em>  
><em>And these mistakes you've made, you'll just make them again<em>  
><em>If you'd only try turning around.<em>

_2 AM and I'm still awake, writing a song_  
><em>If I get it all down on paper, it's no longer inside of me,<em>  
><em>Threatening the life it belongs to<em>  
><em>And I feel like I'm naked in front of the crowd<em>  
><em>Cause these words are my diary, screaming out loud<em>  
><em>And I know that you'll use them, however you want to<em>

_But you can't jump the track, we're like cars on a cable,_  
><em>And life's like an hourglass, glued to the table<em>  
><em>No one can find the rewind button now<em>  
><em>Sing it if you understand.<em>  
><em>and breathe, just breathe<em>  
><em>woah breathe, just breathe,<em>  
><em>Oh breathe, just breathe,<em>  
><em>Oh breathe, just breathe.<em>

Later we walked through the halls and we reached my locker easily.

"The song was nice Abby," Quinn said. "Thanks…not pointing that I also cried earlier."

I only nodded. In some ways, Quinn and I were a lot alike. It was more than just once being a cheerleader though. It was our personas. How we both seemed to always be something better. Yes, Quinn wants to be popularity and she wants to be on the top whereas I don't care, at least, much. Still, it seems like we always trying to be who we once were. She was trying to rebuild her life after her pregnancy and I was just trying to be normal, like I once was. Of course, for her, being popular like that is what she must consider is normal for her. For me…I just want to reach the light at the end of the tunnel, like the song said. I just want to be able to breathe and I want to be okay.

But, also like the song says, we are all on this track, this cable, which we can't get out of. We're stuck. Every single one of us. Stuck. Glued to the table.

There's no changing that, except that we can be okay. We can breathe and maybe one day we'll be fine. Or maybe not. Who's to say?

"Here," Quinn said suddenly. Then she pulled out a piece of paper from her bag. That's when I realized what it was: not a paper, but a photo. "Something to add to your locker," she explained and she magnetically put the photo onto the locker.

It was then that I comprehended the full truth of the matter. I hadn't been breathing. Metaphorically, of course. I had sung a song about breathing, but I hadn't truly been breathing. Instead, I had been suffocating myself, holding onto the notion that I couldn't who I was. That I was this sad, dreary person, when in truth, I wasn't.

I was happy. I was optimistic.

Again, I looked at the photo. It was of the Glee club. It was a recent picture, so I was in it to. Everybody was happy and smiling. For once the mask that always seemed to be covering my face was gone. Lifted off of me.

I hadn't been breathing.

But I looked at the picture again and I took one big gulp of air.

Never before had I felt so light.

So optimistic.

I just hoped that it would last.

I hoped about being hopeful.

Somehow, I hoped it would work.

* * *

><p><strong>The song was Breathe(2am) by Anna Nalick. Yeah, I had a little Grey's Anatomy moment, but I decided why not?<strong>

**I've been thinking and I'm think I will go faster through this story, with less words, until I get to the more exciting parts instead of doing 20,000 words per episode. There will most likely still be five chapters an episode, but less words, until I get to the better parts. At those parts, later in the story, I'll probably lengthen them and make them all nice. Mainly I want to get to the episodes right before Sam and Quinn's break up, which will be the start of the most interesting stuff. At least I think so. :) Anyway, sorry for long wait for update. My days have been filled with more work lately, resulting in less time on this story. But I will try to get back and write more.**

**So review please! Tell me what you think! I'm not going to say that I will write by number of reviews. Ultimately, I like to write, and I'm going to keep this story going to the end, no matter if I'm getting reviews or reader...Though I really do hope that people are reading and reviewing! **

**Oh, last thing, I'm thinking of drawing a picture of Abby. I've had a few goes, but it hasn't looked like I want it to yet. I'm not that great of an artist, but I know that at least I like to have some sort of picture of the characters I'm reading about, so I might draw her, out of the mental picture I have formulated in my head, and see if it works. **


	11. Chapter 11 Retrospection

**In this chapter, I have many flashbacks, hence "retrospection." The flashbacks are in italics like in before, but I do have one song included that not's part of a past tense, but is also in italics, so just keep note of that. The flashbacks will be occuring in November of the_previous _year. Note: These next few chapters will be similar to this with flashbacks in italics, so just remember this so you're not confused. **

**Please review! Tell me what you think about the flashbacks and how they differ from the present time. :) These next chapters might be emotional, mainly because the actual episode was so emotional too. So just be forewarned! **

**I'm freaking out a little lately because of the end of the last episode with Quinn and all. I mean, talk about a cliffhanger seriously? Anyway, I can't _ wait_ till Glee comes back on. I'm sure you're all with me! I forgot to mention it, but in the last chapter I tried to put a lot of Quinn in it, mostly because I was depressed. Anyway, hope you like the chapter. **

**Reviews are welcome. They're like a rainbow after a storm! That's poetic me right there. ;)**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 11 Retrospection<strong>

* * *

><p><em><strong>retrospection <strong>noun_

_1. the action, process, or faculty of looking back on things past._

_2. a survey of past events or experiences_

* * *

><p><strong>Freshman Year, November<strong>

_6:07_

_I woke up to the familiar tune of my alarm clock. I had gotten so used to that noise that it seemed to be hardened into my mind. _

_My morning routine began next, and like the alarm clock, it was familiar. So familiar._

_First, it was putting on my clothes. So I quickly slipped into my Cheerleader's outfit. Then it was on to hair. After I put my hair back in a tight and neat ponytail with just a few wispy hairs as bangs, I turned over to my roommate: Jenny. She was a late sleeper, and likewise a night owl, so it usually took some prodding to wake up her up. But today was different, it was only 6:07, but I already knew that today was different and the first reason I spotted, was Jenny not in her bed as was usual. _

_That was the first thread; the smallest, beginning detail that I should have realized was just the start of an onslaught of those different things. _

_Next, I went down stairs across the hall to the girl's mini kitchen that we all shared. As we were all roomies, we took turns stocking our mini fridge with food. The majority of the girls ate down at the mess hall where we were supposed to eat breakfast with the boys, but as Cheerleaders, we didn't eat much. In fact, we used to challenge each other on who could go the longest without food. At the time, it had only been just a game. But a familiar game, so that day I played along._

"_Hey, Abbs," Krista called. She was a fellow cheerleader and we were pretty good friends, but like everyone else, we weren't "besties". "Come on down, we've been waiting for you!"_

"_What's going on?" I asked. But as I entered the room, I saw what was now, very obvious. _

"_Surprise!" all of the cheerleaders called. I could see Jenny and everyone else as they blew on those silly noise makers._

"_Congratulations," Cassandra, the head cheerleader, said as she walked up to me and put an arm around my shoulder. "You have officially been a part of the team for one year!"_

"_I can't believe I forgot," I said, shaking my head in disbelief. It truly had been one full year since eighth grade where I and the other freshmen were drafted and began preparing for high school cheerleading._

"_Well, just be glad we didn't," Cassandra pronounced. "Anyway, as it has been one fun and grand year with us, we have a surprise for you."_

_And then she pulled out a flat, square box. _

"_It's your official charm bracelet," Jenny explained. "We all have them, and now you do too!"_

_All of the other cheerleaders showed off their bracelets quickly to each other. At our boarding school, those bracelets were special. They were like a sign of your popularity. Each year for being on the team, you get one charm. Most of the seniors had all four charms, which they proudly flaunted any second they could get._

_I hadn't been expecting one of the bracelets. It was almost like confirming you into the popular crowd and for a girl like me, who used to be so quiet, this new announcement and all these people congratulating made me feel good. Great even. _

_It was bittersweet._

_After the celebrations quickly ended, the bell rang, so we went to our first period classes. _

_I didn't have time to check the news that morning, as I had always previously done._

_Then it was time for our second period._

_And finally our third period classes._

_This had been my history class, with my history teacher that was too old to be teaching still. I didn't mind the class. The teacher didn't give out a lot of homework, and the class was a bit of snooze. But then there was another different thing because today, the teacher actually decided on doing something fun._

_He brought out the school's Jeopardy system that was often used in our classes for review before a test. Everyone was excited because for once, history class wasn't a bore. It was practically a miracle. _

_So we began playing Jeopardy and were divided into teams. The game began and we all tried to click the fastest and answer the questions so we could win the game. My team was behind, very behind. We weren't the best at fast clicking, to say the least. It was just as the leading team won another point that the intercom rang out._

"_Could we please have Abby Johnson to the office? She will be leaving, so she should bring her belongings," rang the bored secretary's voice. _

_Instantly, I scrunched my eyebrows up in befuddlement. I didn't have a clue as to why I would be called to the office, let alone, why I would be leaving, but I didn't give it too much thought as I put my belongings together. I couldn't help but smile as my new charm bracelet jingled as I walked down the familiar halls towards the office. _

_Even though a few things were different, the day couldn't have been better. I mean, I was a full-fledged cheerleader! Me! I hadn't thought that I would ever be one, but then, we never really can tell what our future would hold._

_Though, I really wished we could._

* * *

><p>I flipped the final page of my book as I noticed Mr. Shue coming into class, so I put the book away. Right in time because then, Finn decided to speak up.<p>

"Mr. Schue," Finn began as the school bell rang announcing the beginning of Glee club. He raised his hand, but put it down and he moved to stand up. "I have something to say. Something happened to me, and I can't really explain it, but it's shaken me to my core."

"He's coming out," Puck instantly said.

"Yes," Finn agreed, and we all looked at him strangely. "There is a man that has recently come into my life, and that man is Jesus Christ."

Rachel looked at him in shock, and I figured that his new announcement might create some strains on their relationship.

"That's way worse," Puck said.

"And I know there's others in here who dig him too," Finn continued.

I noticed that Quinn, who sat beside me, instantly perked up. I had forgotten that she was religious, but now wasn't surprised at her sudden interest.

"So I thought maybe this week, we could pay tribute to him," he explained. "In music. You know, pay tribute to Jesus."

"Sorry," Kurt protested. "But if I wanted to sing about Jesus, I'd go to church. The reason I don't go to church is because most churches don't think very much of gay people…Or women…Or science."

"I don't see anything wrong with getting a little church up in here," Mercedes said proudly.

"I agree," Quinn started. "I had a really hard year, and I turned to God a lot for help. I, for one, want to say thanks."

"Thanks for what?" Santana scoffed. "It didn't come out a lizard baby?"

"Whenever I pray, I fall asleep," Britney admitted quietly.

"Well guys, maybe our song selections don't have to be about Jesus, we could do songs about spirituality," Mr. Schue suggested.

Puck shook his head stubbornly.

"You got a problem with Jesus?" Finn asked him.

"No, I don't have a problem with the guy. I'm a total Jew for Jesus. He's my number one peep. What I don't like seeing is people using J-Money to cramp everybody else's style," he explained. "Cause it seems to me that true spirituality, or whatever you want to call it, is about enjoying the life you've been given."

"And the people in it," I added.

"Exactly," he continued. "I mean, I see God every time I make out with a new chick."

I groaned, "Not what I meant."

"Okay, that doesn't make any sense. It's stupid," Rachel protested against Puck's claim.

"Are you calling Mr. Billy Joel stupid?" he questioned, and when she didn't respond he spoke again, "This time I'd like to continue my streak of doing songs only by Jewish artists. Hit it."

He strapped his guitar on and started paying.

_Come out Virginia, don't let me wait  
>You Catholic girls start much too late<br>aw But sooner or later it comes down to fate  
>I might as well be the one<em>

Well, they showed you a statue, told you to pray  
>They built you a temple and locked you away<br>Aw, but they never told you the price that you pay  
>For things that you might have done...<br>Only the good die young'

_That's what I said_

_Only the good die young_

_You might have heard I run with a dangerous crowd_  
><em>We ain't too pretty we ain't too proud<em>  
><em>We might be laughing a bit too loud<em>  
><em>aw But that never hurt no one<em>

_So come on Virginia show me a sign_  
><em>Send up a signal and I'll throw you the line<em>  
><em>The stained-glass curtain you're hiding behind<em>  
><em>(you know)<em>  
><em>Never lets in the sun<em>  
><em>Darlin only the good die young<em>  
><em>Woah<em>  
><em>I tell ya<em>  
><em>only the good die young<em>

Puck walked up closer to the chairs as he started playing in front of Quinn, Mercedes, and me. Soon Santana, Britney, Artie, Tina, and Mike began dancing in the middle with Puck, along with Mr. Schue, who seemed to be enjoying himself too. We all got up out of our chairs and clapped our hands and shook our hips in unison as we got to the chorus.

_You got a nice white dress and a party on your confirmation_  
><em>You got a brand new soul<em>  
><em>mmmm, And a cross of gold<em>  
><em>But Virginia they didn't give you quite enough information<em>  
><em>You didn't count on me<em>  
><em>When you were counting on your rosary<em>  
><em>(oh woah woah)<em>

_They say there's a heaven for those who will wait_  
><em>Some say it's better but I say it ain't<em>  
><em>I'd rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints<em>  
><em>the sinners are much more fun...<em>

_you know that only the good die young_  
><em>That's what I said<em>  
><em>I tell ya<em>  
><em>Only the good die young<em>

_well your mother told you all that I could give you was a reputation_  
><em>Aww She never cared for me<em>  
><em>But did she ever say a prayer for me? oh woah woah<em>

_Come out come out come out Virginia don't let me wait,_  
><em>You Catholic girls start much too late<em>  
><em>Sooner or later it comes down to fate<em>  
><em>I might as well be the one,<em>  
><em>You know that only the good die young<em>

_I'm telling you baby_  
><em>You know that only the good die young<em>  
><em>Only the good die young<em>  
><em>Only the gooooooooooooooood<em>  
><em>Only the good die young<em>  
><em>Only the gooooooooooooooood<em>  
><em>Only the good die young<em>

My parents were still young. Right?

* * *

><p><em>10:47<em>

_I got to the office and before I even went in, I saw my headmistress standing outside, impatiently, almost worriedly tapping her foot. And then she saw me._

_Her eyes instantly went to my face, and then went sad. _

_I assumed that I did something wrong, though I couldn't think of anything. Besides, this was me we were talking about; me: the goody two shoes. I didn't think that I made in recent errors or mistakes, at least not major ones, and in that aspect, I was right. But, for once in my life, I wished I was wrong, I wished I was so wrong._

_Again, it was bittersweet._

"_Hello, Mrs. Davis, the office called me…They didn't say why…" _

"_Oh, yes, I assume they wouldn't," she began and I looked at her puzzled._

"_Is something wrong? Did I do something bad?" I questioned quickly._

_She looked at me, behind her thin, straight glasses, and I could see how uncertain her eyes were. This was a different concept for me, yes different, because for so long, she had seemed to be this imposing presence. This figure of high stature that was quite frankly, scary. But as I looked at her, no longer did I see that impressive and striking person. Instead, she was just like anyone else: she was worried. I could see the flickers of doubt in her eyes; I was perceptive, that much I knew. So I could easily tell that something was wrong._

_Very wrong._

_In that aspect, I was right._

* * *

><p>The next morning I woke up with a blank mind. This was usually how I awoke, not always but usually. For a girl who almost always was observant, in the mornings was definitely when I was the least me. So I was in a daze as I told my slight headache that morning to go away.<p>

In the end, as I waited in my bed for a few moments, I finally told myself to wake up. So I got out of my head, got dressed and went to the kitchen. My aunt was already there with her "old lady" glasses on, as I called them. They were the typical frames you would expect an elderly woman to have, and that was why I always teased my aunt whenever she wore them. She had terrible eyesight, and so did I. When I was younger, I wore the dorkiest, big-rimmed glasses that you could have imagined because my eyesight was so bad. Finally, I had convinced my parents to let me get contacts before middle school, so no longer was I the cliché bookworm with glasses. Though, the cliché theme had fit with me for awhile, especially when, during my youth, I broke the glasses and had to go for a long period of time with tape on them. I was a teased child, to say the least.

Now though, I was glasses free, and for the most part, cliché free. But my aunt was still there in the kitchen, trying to read something. That's where we differed because she could not see at all close up, whereas I could not see anything far away. Still, my aunt looked like she was really trying to make something that morning as I stared at her and the mess in the kitchen she had created, in confusion.

"What's going on?" I speculated as I walked into the room.

"Oh, good Abby you're awake!" she said. "Here can you read this? I'm having difficulties."

"Step 3 In a small bowl, whisk together sour cream, egg yolk, and vanilla. Mix into flour and butter mixture, and mix until dough comes together in moist clumps. Gather dough into ball," I read aloud as I looked at the scones recipe. I was surprised that she was making scones because not that many people usually liked them. I always had, mostly because my mom and I had always made them together when we were little.

We'd mix the dough together and then we would shape the dough. We wouldn't always put them into normal scone shapes. Sometimes we would create square scones or trapezoidal scones, basically any other shape that was unnatural. My mom had always said that best part of baking was putting your personal touch into the recipe, and that was our finishing touch. Our unique flair. Now every time I see or eat scones I'm reminded of being that young again, with my red apron on that said "Mini Chef" across it, with my name too. My mom had a matching one, but hers said "Momma Chef" with her own name. I don't know what my mom ever did with those aprons, but, even though I'm not a cook, the few times that I do cook something with someone else, it's that apron I want to use.

But I can't. Just like I can no longer make scones with my mom.

I hated how every little thing has some connection to them: either my mom or my dad. And it seems like now; everything that is connected to them will never be the same.

No matter how much I want it to be.

"Why are you making scones?" I asked as I went to fill a glass with water.

"I was just in the mood," she said. "Besides, my shift doesn't start for awhile and I decided why not?"

"Cool," I said, and then finally I decided to venture onto unsafe land. "I used to make them with my mom you know?"

"Yes, of course I do. Who do you think taught her to make scones in the first place?" she asked me, and I looked at her confused.

"I always assumed it was Grandma," I said. "But, wait, you taught her?"

"Well, your grandma taught me and then I taught your mom," she explained. "She was always a quick study, a lot like you, so she picked it up easily."

"Oh, no," I said hurriedly. "I'm not a baker. I really don't think making a few scones when I was younger with my mom accounted for anything."

"You never know!" she said in a sing-song voice as she proceeded to form the dough.

"Well, can I help shape the dough then?" I asked.

"Go right ahead, with that one," she said, gesturing to one of the piles of dough.

"Okay," I said. "So I've been meaning to ask you about something…"

"Shoot," she said. "I'm up to my ears in dough right now so I can answer any questions."

"Well, I was just wondering about our religion because in Glee club we were talking about it," I said, uncertain about the topic at first. "I know I'm Jewish, but when my parents were…when I still lived with my parents, we never really went to Synagogue except for special occasions and we just weren't that…religious."

"That is because your father was Jewish, but your mother was Christian," she explained.

I looked at her confused, "But I thought they were both Jewish. I mean, that's what we practiced right?"

"Your parents agreed that they would coexist with both abiding by different religions. That's part of the reason why you didn't go to church or Synagogue often. They wanted you, when you were older to choose. Frankly, I think the real reason was because both of your parents were so stubborn that neither would change nor accept anything. In the end, they figured that they wanted you to be open to many different religions and pick what you want. Your brother is Christian. Did you know that? He decided before he went over seas. I'm Christian too. My whole family was. Your dad was resilient in his beliefs though and somehow, your parents were both okay with the others' differing opinions."

"So I can choose?" I asked.

"You always could Abby," she said. "Whatever you feel is right for you."

I thought about it for a moment as I molded the dough. I know everyone in the Glee club had different faiths and opinions on God, that much was apparent from the previous day. Yet, I didn't know where I fell with everyone else.

I think I believed in God. At least, I know I believed in something more than what you can just see and touch. I wanted to believe in him. At least, that there is something after this world. I had to believe this.

If I didn't, everything would be hopeless.

Maybe I was a little like Kurt though. It's not like God has been particularly giving to me in the past year; but still, I couldn't believe that we were alone. In any case, not _truly _alone.

One thing that I know I don't believe in is someone else making our decisions for us. Guiding our way is one thing, but I think, in the end, it is us who decided who we are. We create our persona. We create who we are.

I made myself the way I am today.

I wasn't about to blame someone else for that.

Besides, here I was molding something else, and it was quite easy. It wasn't hard to believe that someone else could do this, yet I don't feel like someone his guiding, molding my life. If there was someone, wouldn't I know the right way to go? The right path to take?

"Abby," said my aunt suddenly, waving her hand in front of my face. "Hello? Earth to Abby?"

"W-what?" I said.

"You really zoned out for a second there," she explained.

"Oh, sorry."

"It's okay but it's time to put the dough in the in the oven."

"Alright," I said. As I put mine of the baking tray. I looked at all the other balls of dough that would soon be scones, the ones that she made.

Hers were perfectly rounded. Perfectly shaped. So they would make perfect scones. Whereas my scone, was lumpy and oddly shaped. It was…unique. It wasn't perfect.

I think I was grateful that whoever made me didn't make me perfect.

Creating perfection was impossible anyway because just as my aunt put the scones into the oven, I noticed the small bumps and edges on the dough she made.

Not so perfect after all.

* * *

><p><em>10:54<em>

"_I do not no how to put this Miss Johnson," the headmistress began. "You see, I've never done it before. I've called the counselor, but he won't be here for awhile."_

"_What's going on Mrs. Davis?" I demanded, now I was worried. Very worried. Not even the cheery jingle of my bracelet could soothe me now._

"_Why don't we sit down?" she continued._

_Hesitantly, I followed her to the chairs._

_We moved to a secluded section of the school. It was her office and again I couldn't help but feel how different this was. I mean, me in the principals office, that just doesn't happen. Not to me. Not for being bad, and not for being extremely good either. So why was I here?_

_Soon she answered my question._

"_Abby, how are you feeling?" she asked, and somehow I could sense that this was just pointless filler and I know she wasn't doing it purposefully, but it was like she was taunting me with what was really going on, like she knew but wanted to wait as long as she could to tell me._

_I realized she was waiting for the counselor. But I didn't know why we would need one, and I voiced my question._

"_The counselor is for you Abby," she explained. "Not because of anything you did. It's nothing like that I assure you."_

"_Okay, good," I said, letting out a deep breathe. For a moment there, I really thought that I had done something wrong, but not it was all okay._

_It was supposed to be okay._

"_So I see you got your cheerleading bracelet," Mrs. Davis pointed out as I raised my bracelet to let her see. _

"_Yeah," I said. "I had completely forgotten that I was getting one today."_

_It made me wonder what else I had forgotten._

* * *

><p><em>11:02<em>

_We continued to talk for a few minutes. They were mostly pleasantries, meaningless things really and all during our talk, I was wondering what could have possibly been going on. I scrutinized Mrs. Davis, but somehow, during our short conversation she was able to put back on her stone-face and now she was back to that imposing figure._

_Finally, I heard the masculine click of shoes on the schools flooring. I turned my head to see Mr. Meriwether, the counselor, walking towards us. He had a small, almost sad smile on his face, but I tried my best to be oblivious and think that he was just normal, ordinary Mr. Meriwether. _

_He had always been one of my favorite teachers at the school. Cassandra had a saying that in Freshman year, everyone loves Mr. Meriwether and thinks he's hilarious, by sophomore year, he was still one of the better teachers. Come junior year and all the class was bored of him. When senior year finally came, everyone just wanted to get out of school, and consequently, no longer cared about ole Mr. Meriwether. _

_But I was still a Freshman. Mr. Meriwether was still that cool teacher. The funny guy. Yeah, he was the counselor, so he taught us all anti-bullying and how to deal with our issues, but mainly, he was the teacher we still loved. _

_I was about to start hating him._

* * *

><p><em>11:16<em>

"_Hey Mr. M," I greeted, with a bright smile on my face. "How does it go?"_

_He looked uncertainly between Mrs. Davis and me, before speaking._

"_Actually, Abby, that's what I'm here to talk to you about," he explained. I instantly noticed how his playful, bantering tone that he always seemed to have, was now gone. Vanished into thin air._

_As he moved over to me, it was like a cue because Mrs. Davis stood up and brushed the wrinkles out of her skirt._

"_Excuse me," she said. "But I'll let you two talk alone."_

_We both nodded as she moved away._

_Instantly, I turned to Mr. M, "So what's going on?" I asked. "Come on, tell me, I've been waiting, and the announcement said I was going home, so I don't know what's going."_

"_You are going to be leaving the school," he explained. "Just not going home."_

_My eyebrows scrunched together in confusion, "What is it?" I questioned. "Tell me what's going on, because I'm starting to get freaked out. Heck, I'm already freaked out."_

"_Abby," he began. "There was an accident."_


	12. Chapter 12 Snail Paces

**Chapter 12 Snail Paces**

_11:27_

_The words came slowly. Each one a pain to understand. It felt like that moment in the movies, where everything stops. Freezes. Then suddenly, it proceeds, but in slow motion. It felt like all of a sudden, I was about to crash. All of the build up that led to this moment, and I felt like I was about to topple over from it all. And maybe I was._

_So I hesitated before I spoke next. What accident? Who could possibly be in an accident? Besides, if there was one, shouldn't the whole school know about it, not just me, right? Why do I need to know about this accident, but no one else?_

_It still felt like I was in slow motion. Like I couldn't form the words properly._

"_What kind of accident?" I asked, uncertainly._

"_There was a plane crash."_

_Instantly, I began shaking my head. Refusing it. And suddenly everything that felt like it was slowed down, now sped up. Fast. Because I knew about a plane. Only one plane. I knew about one plane. Of course, it was** that** plane._

"_What?" I began. "No, no. There can't be a plane crash because…because the only people who I know on a plane are my parents. They are coming in to see me, you know. It was going to be a little family party because it was my mom's birthday weekend. We were going to hang out because I rarely see them anymore," I explained hurriedly, it all coming out in one breathe. "What are you saying Mr. Meriwether?"_

"_Abby, your parent's plane had technical difficulties as they were coming into land. Their landing was unsuccessful."_

"_No," I said, shaking my head still. "No, that's impossible. It's impossible. I **just** talked to them. I just did. They were fine. They said they'll see me in just a little while. Wait, they are okay right? They're at the hospital right? The plane didn't crash too badly right?"_

_I realized now that I hadn't watched the news today. In the midst of all of celebrations, I hadn't watched the news. I had gotten that stupid bracelet, so I hadn't seen the news._

_Slowly, Mr. Meriwether began to shake his head, "Your mother is at the hospital, but Abby…Your father was announced dead at the scene."_

* * *

><p>I Like to Keep Secrets.<p>

That's what the pamphlet said that Ms. Pillsbury handed me as I sat down to our next session. I had seen these types of pamphlets before both in her room, and crumpled outside trash bins across the school after a misplaced shot. The kids at this school thought they were a joke, which might not be far from the truth. Personally, I didn't know how much I could rely on this flimsy piece of paper, especially regarding my issues. I couldn't understand how they could possibly help. It simply seemed unlikely that I could learn anything of importance from this pamphlet.

"Secrets aren't good for you," Ms. Pillsbury explained. "Nor are they any good for the people you are keeping the truth from. They don't do any good. They just worsen any base of any relationship. The tried and true way to have a good relationship is to be secret-free. To have honesty. I'm worried that if you keep up this…this charade that everything is okay, it will only affect you worse in the end. Please, Abby. It will be better if they know."

"How are you so sure?" I questioned. "How can someone know that? How do you know its better one way or the other?"

"Well, you know no better than me," she pointed out, but I shook my head.

"I know me," I insisted. "I know me better than anyone else. So yes, I would know better than you. I know that telling everyone will only make things worse. Not better, worse."

"But what if someone finds out?" she asked. "What then?"

"Then they keep it to themselves. People can keep a secret right? Especially if it's not there's to say in the first place."

"Sure, they can," she said. "But then they have the weight of the secret too."

"I know, I understand that. I do," I insisted. "But I can't believe that telling people, having them know, would make things any better. That it would, for some reason, make things easier. That it could whatsoever make the weight any less because it can't."

"Abby…" she protested. "Trust me when I say this, no one wants to be lied to. They want to know the truth."

"I don't know how!" I exclaimed. "…I don't know how because I don't keep secrets. I just don't. And now I'm keeping this huge secret, and it's killing me, but I can't help feel that this pain is less, so much less, than telling people about it. Then it becomes real. Then I have to accept that they are gone. That my parents are dead."

"Is this what it is about Abby? You can't accept what's happened?" she said.

"No," I said shaking my head. "_I_ can accept it, by myself. I can understand it. It's not hard to do that. It's almost easy actually. I know what it means. The words. I know what they mean. I know what they represent when someone else says them. But if I were to say them, or not even that, but if I see that shock on someone's face when I tell them. How they instantly know what happened, and they know what to expect. If that happens. Then I can't accept it."

Slowly, I breathed out.

"I can't."

* * *

><p><em>11:34<em>

_It was all a cruel, cruel joke. That's what I kept telling myself. It had to be. My father couldn't be dead. He just couldn't. Dead and father? Those words didn't even work together. So it couldn't be. _

_It couldn't be._

"_No," I said, shaking my head. "No. My dad is not dead. He can't be dead. He's my dad. You know? He said he would always be there for me, he is **not** gone. I would know."_

_But then is when I realized what had been happening that day. All of the dissimilarities about today. Everything. I should have known. _

_I should have known._

* * *

><p><em>11:45<em>

"_The plane crash was fatal for almost all of the passengers. There were a few survivors, including your mom, all who were taken to the hospital. They are critical Abby. Your mom, she may not make it out of this one."_

_It was too much. _

_Too much._

_My father couldn't be dead. He just couldn't._

_How do you take that? One day you hear his alive voice on the phone. You Skype with him and you see him, flesh and all. He is okay. The next day, he is dead. Gone. Erased._

_How do you take that in stride?_

_I was still a kid. Just a freshman, and he was my dad._

_He always (jokingly) told me that he would kill my first boyfriend and bury him in our front yard. He said that he'd figure word would get out and his little girl would always stay just like that: his little girl._

_Of course, that didn't happen. But he also wasn't here anymore._

_I could barely believe it._

_It was just too much._

* * *

><p>After Ms. Pillsbury session, I had, unsuccessfully managed to get through my classes. And the rest of the day had gone by like a blur. I don't even remember how I managed to make it to the library. Though, I'm sure it had required a lot of dragging feet and grim insistence on my part. However I did it, I finally made it the library and slumped into the chair next to Sam, in a very unladylike fashion. My arms were crossed against my chest, and though I didn't want to, I could feel a scowl forming on my lips.<p>

"Bad day?" Sam questioned quirking his lips into a smile.

"You could say that," I surmised.

"I have a remedy for that," he said. Slowly, I turned from where my eyes had been boring into the wall and looked at him.

"What?" I asked, not sure if I wanted to know.

"Follow me," he said, getting out of his chair. He held a hand out to me and after pausing for a moment and looking it over, I grabbed his hand.

Sam led me to a bookcase close to the desks where some students were reading and where the librarian sat behind her desk.

"What are we doing?" I asked.

"Just watch," he said as he pulled out a straw and a piece of paper. Then realization dawned on me: spitballs. Quickly, he loaded the straw with a spitball and then he fired it at an unsuspecting reader. The target looked up from his book for a moment and brushed the back side of his head where the spitball had landed, then returned to his book.

"What are you doing!" I exclaimed. "You're going to get caught."

"Nah," he said smiling, "haven't yet, and don't plan to."

"Oh, and that means you won't?" I questioned.

"I'd bet on it," he grinned. "Besides, at my old school the guys there and I used to always have spitball fights. I'm just…continuing the tradition."

I scoffed, but I still didn't stop him as he loaded up his straw again and this time sent at a different target that had the same reaction the spitball that the first boy had.

"Do you want to try?" he asked. "It's really fun."

"No way," I insisted.

"Why? Are you too much of a goody-two shoes to do it?" he teased.

I shook my head as I grinned wryly, "Fine," I said. "Hand me the straw."

He unceremoniously handed the red and white straw to me, and quickly I wiped it of germs with my sleeve. Then I loaded the straw and shot it at a new target: the librarian.

She didn't even realize that the spitball was in her hair but it was apparent to anyone looking at her, very apparent.

We continued on like this, shooting spitballs at various students. It was increasingly funnier each time someone was hit because after several shots they would stand up and look for the shooter accusingly, but inevitably return to their reading. Sam and I made the mistake to send a number of spitballs at the librarian, ones which she actually felt, and finally she stood up from behind her desk, looking angry, and started hurrying around the library.

"Uh-oh. She's coming," I whispered hurriedly to Sam as I suppressed a giggle.

"Quick, pretend like we're reading," he said.

We each took out a book nearest to us and flipped to a page. Then we tried our bests to look like we were deeply interested in whatever the topic of the books we were reading.

Just in time, for I could hear the click of the librarians shoes coming down our aisle.

"Ahem, you two," she said and Sam and I each looked up for our book. "I've had some students complain about being "attacked" by spitballs. Have you by any chance seen the culprits?"

"Nope," I said as we both shook our heads.

"Really?" she said looking at us curiously, like she knew we had something to do with it. "Well, if you see them, please notify me."

"Sure," Sam said. "You don't have to worry about us though. We're just a couple of goody-goodies."

"Sam!" I complained, though I laughed to, as I elbowed him in the stomach.

The librarian only raised any eyebrow at us.

"We'll go back to reading," I promised.

She nodded, smartly, "Sounds like a good idea."

I grinned sheepishly at her as we moved back to the table. As I sat down, I said something that I would probably get in the habit of saying.

"I am not a goody-goody!" I insisted.

Sam only shook his head, "You don't even know the half of it."

I glared at him, "Let's just return to our homework." Sam opened his mouth and before he could say anything, I cut him out. "Doing homework does not make me a goody-two-shoes!"

"Whatever you say."

I almost glared at him again, but instead I smiled because for a moment, I forgot about that pamphlet stuck in my binder. I was just me. Just Abby. No secrets. No dead parents.

Just me. I quite liked the feeling.

* * *

><p><em>12:04<em>

"_So-so my mom, she's at the hospital?" I asked and he nodded. "Then why aren't we there!"_

_My voice broke._

_It just broke._

"_Your mother is in surgery," he explained. "I was to come take you to the hospital as soon as you were ready. Are you ready?"_

_I could only nod because really, who was ready to go the hospital where their mom could very well die? Certainly, not me._

_Quickly, we moved to his car. He had the cliché dice on his front mirror and his car smelled off books and cookies. I could barely wonder why it smelt like this because I was just so worried._

_Mr. Meriwether began pulling out of the school parking lot. During the car ride, I kept my eyes locked on the outside. I know that if I looked at him, I would cry, just because I cry in front of people too easily. So I kept my eyes trained on the passing buildings. I noticed how every few minutes he would look at me out of the corner of his eye. I knew he wanted to say something, and in a way, I wanted him to say something too, but he didn't. _

_I thought that because he was a counselor, and a cool counselor at that, he should be able to make me feel better, at least okay. But then again, who, or what, can even make you feel okay, when you know your dad is dead and your mom's in the hospital?_

_Of course, I was in shock now. Cold, numbing shock that barely allowed me to compute. _

_But he wasn't in shock, he should be saying something, anything._

_Yet, he didn't, but not everyone's perfect._

_I looked down at his dashboard and saw the time. On a normal day, I would be having lunch right now._

_But today was not a normal day._

* * *

><p><em>12:27<em>

_A thought occurred to me during the car ride. A brilliant, **optimistic** thought._

_There was no proof. No concrete evidence that something happened to my parents. All it was, was the word of Mr. Meriwether and the worried looks of Mrs. Davis. Nothing more than that. All it was, a few words. A few normal words that put together make something bad, something horrible. But all it was, was a few words. They could be okay. I could hope that they are okay. _

_I hadn't known yet, about how shaky, how unreliable hope could be. Optimism could be._

_Soon I would know._

_We walked into the hospital, and I let Mr. Meriwether lead the way. I know I should have been racing ahead of him. Trying to find my parents, at least my mom, but I didn't because of that shred of hope. So I took my time. For a second there, I allowed myself to hope, even though I know in situations like this you're not supposed. But I did. _

_Wow, I was breaking a rule. Little ole goody-two-shoes me, breaking a rule. This rule was probably the one I shouldn't have broken, especially not now. But I did anyway. I hoped._

_We walked to the hospital's front desk. Mr. Meriwether quickly spoke to her._

"_We're looking for a May Johnson," he spoke to the lady behind the desk. She nodded and then began looking at her computer. _

"_And who are you both?" she questioned._

"_Her daughter," I said quickly. "I'm her daughter."_

_She looked up from her computer in that moment, pausing on my face._

"_Okay," she said. "I'll take you to her room."_

_She led us through the many halls in the hospital. As we walked, I couldn't help but notice all the commotion going on around us. From beeping machines to patients on gurneys, I had never realized how truly busy a hospital was. There was just so much. I could hardly believe that in one of those rooms was my mom. _

_We finally reached a new room with another secretary behind the desk. As I walked in I had seen the sign. "Intensive Care Unit" was what I said. Certainly, it was impossible that she was in here. I mean, my mom in the Intensive Care Unit? That seemed impossible. But then, my father being dead, didn't make any sense either. None of this did. How could it? _

_Though, I still held onto the hope that this was all unreal because it was certainly surreal. So it can't be real. It just wouldn't make sense. Couldn't make sense._

_The nurse who had led us here, quickly talked to the other one behind the computer. After a few moment, she came back to us._

"_Your mother's doctor will be here in a few moments," she explained. "Now if you will excuse me, I need to be returning to my desk."_

"_Oh, yes of course," Mr. Meriwether said, stumbling over his words, though I never could recall him being much of a stutterer. "Thank you for your help."_

_She nodded and turned around, but I could swear at the last moment her eyes caught on me again, and she stared long and hard at me. Well, I didn't care very much; I wasn't even paying attention to her because I already was looking anywhere I could, trying to find that doctor. But for the life of me, I couldn't find him, until finally an older fellow, with his salt and pepper hair come over to us._

"_Hello," he greeted. "You must be waiting for a May Johnson?"_

"_Yes," Mr. Meriwether answered. "We-"_

"_Can I see her?" I asked, not even caring that I interrupted Mr. Meriwether._

_Slowly, the man shook his head, and as if it was a nervous habit, he began clicking his pen._

"_I'm sorry, but you can't…Your mother has passed away due to her injuries being too great to save her," the doctor explained solemnly. "We used extraordinary measures to try and save her, but in the end…We lost her."_

"_When?" I asked, almost shouted. But the doctor just looked at me confused. "When did you loose her?"_

_The doctor froze for a moment, before recounting the time._

"_12:46 Time of death," he announced._

"_So I was late?" I asked, tears almost stopping me from talking. "If I had been here five minutes earlier, I could have seen her? I was late?"_

"_I...uh," the doctor said, looking like he didn't know what to say._

"_No," I said. "No. Where is she? Where is her room?"_

"_It's the far one on the left Room 17," he explained. "But I think you should sit down now. It is a lot to process."_

_I looked at him, confounded. Of course, it was a lot to take in! How could it not be? But even though I was angered by how he said it, I did now know where my mom was, and he had provided me with that information, so I was partially grateful, and even though we weren't all too close to where he said her room was, I could see it, just barely. Somehow, I knew they hadn't taken her out of the room yet. They hadn't taken her **body** yet._

_I could still see her. I could still hope that she is okay. That all that these people have been telling me today was all lies. That she was okay._

_So I pushed past the doctor, my years of track, letting me sprint easily. I heard the doctor call to stop, but I couldn't. I was usually such a goody-two-shoes, doing whatever anyone told me to do, but right now, I just couldn't. I couldn't. She was right **there**. My mom. She was just a little farther down the hall, in some room. My mom._

_I could still see her._

"_Someone stop her!" the doctor called, yet no one did. After all, this was a hospital and they were busy people, and all I was asking was to see my mom, one more time._

_Finally, I reached her room, and I barged into the room. There were people touching her, removing obscure wires off of her. Off her body. _

_I barged past the people too. I didn't care about their looks of alarm as I ran to her side. How could I? _

_She was right there._

_They had already covered her. A thin sheet over her face. Slowly, I moved it off of her._

_I saw someone that I barely recognized._

_She was scratched up, bruised; broken. Her hair was thin and scraggly. Her skin was dull and so pale. As I hesitantly, moved my hand up to touch her face, I noticed how my skin, that was usually so pale; the palest of our family. Yet, it wasn't even close to the alabaster white her skin was. It was unnatural. My completely natural mom: unnatural. She looked so…so feeble, so breakable. She was as frail as I toothpick, and looked to be just as easily able to break._

_This was not my mom._

_Yes, it was her in essence. Her body, her everything, but it wasn't truly **her**. My mom had been beautiful. In my perspective at least. She had been amazing. Practically **perfect.** _

_This was not my mom._

_But as the doctor, who had run after me reached the door looking out of breath. I knew it was. Cautiously he, and Mr. Meriwether behind moved closer to me. _

_The doctor looked at me and then my mother's exposed face. Slowly, ever so slowly, he took the sheet and covered her face, but I stopped him before he could._

"_No!" I shouted. "Don't. Just wait. Please wait. I need to see her! I need to tell her that I'm here. She needs to know that I'm here! I want to tell her so many things still. So just wait please. Just wait."_

"_She needs peace now Abby," he explained. "Let her have peace."_

"_But I need her too," I said. "I just need her to talk with me, once more."_

"_She can't Abby," Mr. Meriwether said. "She's gone."_

"_No," I said. "No, no, no, no. It's impossible she can't be gone. My dad can't be gone. They both **can't** be gone."_

"_We did the best we can Miss, but we couldn't save them. He is right: they are gone," the doctor said._

"_No, they can't be gone. Don't you see? This is **my** fault. They are "gone" because of **me**. I asked them to come back to New York. I was the person who wanted to stay in New York at the first place. This is my fault," I realized._

"_It's not your fault Abby," the doctor insisted. "It's no one's fault."_

_I shook my head because it was my fault._

_It was my fault that she wasn't going to get her peace. Even if they shrouded her, she was never going to be at peace because…because this was my fault. Her own daughter, playing a crucial role in her death, how could she possibly ever be at peace?_

_And what about me? Didn't they know that I couldn't be at peace without her and my father? Without the knowledge that they were alright, at least, that they were at peace?_

_I wanted peace too._

_But no amount of optimism, perfection, or breathing seemed able to give me that._

_Nothing could._

* * *

><p><strong><em><em>Okay, so that was chapter 12. I'm sorry for the delay. I've been sick and it's been one of the sicknesses where it fogs up your mind so badly you can't think. Consequently, I have been unable to write, and also these chapter have been emotional for me to write, and I've in a way, been dreading to write them. I like to be a happy person and write happy stories! I just always seem to be better at writing sad ones, at least emotional ones.**

**But that besides the point. Thank you to all of you readers and reviewers who have bothered to read this story. I hoped you like the Abby and Sam moment because I really wanted to bring some light to the "darkness" of the flashbacks.**

**So please review! It means a ton (that's right **907.18474 kilograms) if you do! ****


	13. Chapter 13 Pinches

**Chapter 13 Pinches**

_1:04_

_I think it was the silence that affected me the most. _

_Of course, things weren't silent really; they never were. But to me, it just seemed like there was nothing, despite the business and chaos of the hospital._

_It was just me, in an uncomfortable hospital chair, and nothing else._

_It was just me._

_The world around me was tuned out. I wasn't thinking about anything really, and maybe that's why it felt so silent. I was thinker. I had always known that, but at this present moment, the thoughts ran dry. There was nothing. It was like I had gone deaf to the world. I didn't even hear the doctor calling my name, until she put her hand on my shoulder._

_Quickly, I looked up, tears blurring my eyes as I tried to focus on her. But I couldn't, I was shaking, and it felt so cold, and most of all, there was nothing. When she spoke again, I could hear it, but it was like I was in a tunnel. Or she was calling me, but I had a bad reception. _

"_Are you alright?" the lady asked. I realized that it was the nurse from earlier, not a doctor. She was the one who led Mr. Meriwether and me to my mother's doctor. Mr. Meriwether had gone to get us some food in the hospital. Truthfully, I wasn't hungry. I don't think I could even force down a spec of food if I wanted too, and I didn't want to because I still felt that nothingness. In a way, what it was could be called numbness because I certainly couldn't feel anything, let alone hear anything, yet no one would pinch me to snap me out of it. I was glad though, that Mr. Meriwether had left. When he was there, sitting next to me, trying to console me, the numbness or the nothingness was less. And the thing was, I didn't want it to be less. I needed it to be at full quantity because I didn't want to feel. I couldn't. I didn't want to hear or feel. I guess I don't want someone to pinch me after all._

_Yet, I turned to the lady and opened my mouth to speak, but what I said, even I could barely hear because in a way, I dreaded hearing it myself._

"_I'm fine," I answered. "I'm fine."_

I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine.

_The words echoed in my head. With the nothingness still present, those two words were so loud, so clear; they were imprinted in my mind. I'm fine. All it was, was six letters, yet they still rebounded in my mind like I was in that tunnel again, and everything was echoing. _

I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine.

"_Are you sure?" the lady asked. "If you need someone to talk to, I'm right here."_

"_No," I said, shaking my head. "My school counselor is with me. He's coming right back. See, there he is now."_

_I didn't want him to come back though. As I heard that masculine click of his shoes, it reminded me of earlier, when I was waiting, so unsure. So confused. But at least I hadn't been an empty void of nothingness. _

"_Okay, I'll leave you two to it," she said, smiling uncertainly at me._

"_Actually, Abby," Mr. Meriwether began, "I need to make a call and then there's some paperwork that I need to do."_

"_You're not my legal guardian though," I said._

"_What?" Mr. Meriwether asked as he turned back to face me._

"_You're not my legal guardian," I restated. "My legal guardian should take care of that…Who is my legal guardian?" My voice began to break after that. "I'm an orphan now…parents dead…I'm an orphan now. That means someone else is my legal guardian. I'm still a kid…just a kid. I can't take care of myself. I know that living here at the boarding school was a show of my independence, but my parents were always there. Oh god…I-I can't. I mean, I…"_

"_Shh, shh," the lady soothed. I didn't even know her name and she was soothing me like I'm a baby. Like I'm just some kid. Which I was. I was just a kid. "It'll be okay. We'll contact your relatives and figure it out from there." She looked at me, and I saw something genuine in her eyes. I wasn't always the best judge of character, but I could see something in her eyes. Eventually, those eyes strayed off of me as she turned to face Mr. Meriwether. "Its okay, go make you're call. I'll stay here with her."_

_He nodded and walked away to make a call. And then those eyes turned back to face me._

"_It'll be alright," she said. "I've worked at this hospital for a long time and I've seen people go through horrible things, and they've all overcome it in the end. I'm sure you can too. In fact, I-"_

_But right then a beep rang through the air, and I realized it was her pager._

_She looked down at it and then back at me, a strained expression on her face causing those eyes to darken._

"_I'm so sorry I have to take this," she explained. "I wouldn't if it wasn't urgent, but I have to."_

_I nodded, a soft, almost impossible to even see nod, and then she turned to leave, but before she could I voiced a question._

"_What's your name?" I asked._

"_Ingrid," she answered, smiling at me one last time before she left._

_And once again, I was alone._

_I couldn't help but marvel at the quietness of it._

_The nothingness._

* * *

><p>"Will you stop fiddling with that straw?" Mercedes demanded while sitting at our lunch table.<p>

It was lunch time again, the same time it was every day, but today something was different, and that's what I believe ticked Mercedes off the most: Kurt wasn't here. He seemed to just disappear, and nobody knew where he went. Apparently, Mr. Schue and Ms. Pillsbury got him out of Spanish class, but no one knows why or where he went.

To occupy my curiosity, I was fiddling with the straw from my lunchbox. I was tempted to start pelting people with spitballs, but I refrained from doing so because they were my friends. There were plenty of other targets, and I was tempted, but I didn't start spitting the spitballs…yet.

"Fine," I said. "I'm just curious!"

"Yeah," Tina stated. "Where is Kurt? I thought he would at least tell us beforehand, if he was leaving. We saved a spot for him and everything."

"He's probably just working with a teacher," Artie said, nonchalantly.

"Yeah," Mike agreed, and I could see that he and Tina were holding hands. "There's nothing to worry about."

"I just have a bad feeling about it," Mercedes insisted.

"Well, he won't miss Glee club," I pointed out.

There were many mumbled noises of agreement and soon the conversation topic changed. I took a bite of my sandwich and looked hungrily at the two cookies my aunt had packed in my lunch for me.

Suddenly, I hurt a clash and turned away to see that someone in the hot lunch line had dropped their tray.

As I turned away, Puck had reached over across the table to steal my cookies, but I didn't realize that he stole it until it was too late.

"Hey!" I exclaimed. "Give those back!"

He just smirked mischievously, "Not going to happen."

"Fine," I said. "Then you push me to extreme measures."

Quickly, I picked up the straw and found a suitable spitball, aimed it at him, and then fired. It flew out of the straw, seeming to spiral in slow motion as it raced to hit Puck, however, he somehow managed to dodge the spitball, and because he had been a standing target, the spit ball continued to spiral through the air. Up it went as I followed it with my eyes, until finally it went smack-dab at someone, who was not Puck.

I looked up at the unsuspecting person guiltily. And that's when I saw who it was.

It was an exceedingly tall and bulky jock. I could tell from his coat that he was a hockey player. His face instantly went red as the spitball hit him. The worst thing was that the spitball hit him directly between the eyes. In other words, it was a Bull's-eye. Not exactly pleasant.

"I'm so sorry!" I exclaimed quickly.

"Agh!" he yelped. "You'll pay for that!"

"It was an accident," I said. "I meant to hit him." I gestured to Puck who in turn looked up at me with wide innocent eyes.

"I don't care," he said grumpily. "You'll pay!" I wondered if that was the only threat he knew.

The burly jock then stocked away. I could hear him muttering various curses under his breath too.

As I sat back down at the table, next to everyone else who had all been watching the encounter closely, I let out a sigh.

"I have a feeling a slushy bath is coming my way."

* * *

><p><em>1:36<em>

_The lady didn't come back. Ingrid, that was her name. Such a pretty one too. But she didn't come back. I wasn't blaming her. I mean, she was at her workplace, how would she have time for a kid? _

_She was so nice though. In a distinct way, she reminded me of my mom. Not exactly, I could tell there were differences, major differences about the two. But there was something about her that reminded me of my mom, even of myself._

_But that didn't matter. She didn't comeback. I wasn't alone though. The waiting room around me had quickly filled up with people, crying people. I thought that maybe it would be depressing seeing all these people so sad. But it wasn't. It was normal in a way. These people were crying, and I was crying. It made me feel normal. That nothingness was still there, but at least it felt normal. At least I didn't have to feel or worry about being different. _

_That was one of my biggest insecurities, and trust me; I had a lot of them. But to feel normal, that always seemed hard. Impossible. It was almost cruel that I could feel so normal among all these crying people, and after everything that occurred. But I did._

_I felt normal. Though, I'm assuming I didn't look normal._

"_Is someone with you?" a frail voice called from my right side. I turned, surprised to be talked to by someone sitting down. I had been expecting someone to come from out of the confusing hospital hallways like Mr. Meriwether or Ingrid, but I hadn't expected someone to talk to me. I had expected one of those many tearful faces to talk to me._

"_No," I said. "I mean, yes. He's coming I think. He just needed to do something."_

"_That's good," the lady explained. "No one should be alone after this. You did loose someone in the plane crash too?"_

"_Yes," I answered, nodding my head slowly. The word rebounded in my head. **Yes. **"My parents."_

_The words hurt. Admitting them. It was one thing to say I lost someone; it was another to say who._

"_I'm sorry for you loss," she said. When she said the words, was the first time I really looked at her. She was a robust, heavy woman, dressed in ordinary clothes, except that they were colorful. Her skirt had a pattern on it like intertwining grass. It was different than plaid though, as if it refused to be ordered into one congruent arrangement. And it was as diversely colored as a splatter painting. _

_I liked the shirt. It added a splash of color to the nothingness that seemed to enthrall me._

"_I'm sorry for your loss too," I stated. "If you don't mind me asking, who did you loose?"_

"_My son," she answered, it was almost a whisper. "My husband and I came here as soon as we heard the news of the plane crash. He's getting coffee, but he will be back soon. You can sit with us if you want too. He won't mind, and I could use the company."_

_I looked at her, so unsure. Afraid that the nothingness I used as a shield around me would dissolve and be covered by feeling. By realization. And I don't think I wanted to realize the truth yet. _

_Don't even mention, accepting it yet._

"_O-okay," I decided. "Thank you."_

"_You don't have to thank me," the lady replied, "if my husband and I were on that plane when it crashed, and my son came here alone, I would want someone to be there with him. I certainly wouldn't want him to be alone."_

_I smiled weakly; she must have been a great mom. _

"_What was your son's name?" I asked._

"_Kyle," she answered. "My little boy. He wasn't much older than you I assume. He was in his early twenties…He had such a long life ahead of him. My little boy." She smiled again, a warm, broad smile. "When he was little he would dance throughout the house, his favorite was classical music. I can still remember it as if it was yesterday, when he would march along to the Nutcracker. He became a dancer you know. He was just visiting some friends in Maine and then was coming home to me…now he's dancing with the angels."_

_I wasn't that religious of a person. Yet, as she said the last words, I could just envision this boy of hers up there dancing away._

"_What were your parents doing in Maine?" _

_I looked away, closing my eyes. _

"_They lived there," I answered. "They were coming to see me, in New York. Actually, I originally was going to fly there, to Maine. We had these big plans a few weeks ago to go have a night on the town, and we would have gone, but my dad's business became an issue, so we postponed it and then they decided they might as well be the ones to travel and come and see me. Before though, we had plans in Maine. We were going to go to Portland Stage and see a play, and then we'd go shopping downtown, forcing my dad to come with and carry our bags. I have been living in this boarding school for a while, and I really missed them. Miss them." _

_That's when the nothingness encased around me cracked. It shattered like someone threw a stone through it. And it was sudden too. I wasn't ready for it. They say to expect the unexpected. But what does the infamous "they" know about my life? Nothing. They can't tell me what to do, when the meaning itself is an oxymoron. _

"_It should have been me flying on that plane," I cried. "I should be the one covered with that hospital sheet."_

_The lady looked at me when I talked, her once broad smile changing to something hard to read. I couldn't expect the unexpected this time either._

_She didn't exactly look at me when she began to talk, in a way, I'm not sure that her soft words were just for me either._

"_No one knows what it's like to be a parent, until you're one," she began. "I know what they all say, how there's suddenly another life, a life that you and another person created, in this world. You created life, and that right there is extraordinary enough, but then there's so much more to it. It's unexplainable in a way. There's so many emotions a part of it, that it feels like someone stuffed those different feelings in a blender and put it on high. I loved being a mother. And I know your mother must have felt the same. So trust me when I say this: you're parents, wherever they are, would never choose to switch places with you. You're not at fault. Your parents loved you, they much rather be up there, then in these chairs. I can assure you on that."_

_I was shaking at this point. After my small piece of protection, that nothingness disappeared, it was open season on me. And I heard **every** word that she said._

_But I didn't want to accept it. I didn't want to feel that hurt that, for the life of me, seem impossible to intake. I believe they call this denial._

"_I'm sorry, but I have to go," I explained, tears blurring my eyes as I stood up and walking away. I didn't even hear her noise of protest._

* * *

><p>Finally, the bell rang, signaling that my history class was over. I quickly stood up and took my big, clunky history book and put it in my locker.<p>

"Hey, Abby," said Sam, coming up suddenly by my locker.

"Hey," I greeted. "Aren't you glad history is over?"

"More than glad," he said. History was one of the several classes that I had realized Sam and I had together. "Anyway, I heard about the lunch room incident."

"Oh that," I said, reddening. "Yeah, it was an accident, but he obviously didn't think so."

"Well now he has a slushy vendetta on you," he warned.

"I know," I groaned. "But there's nothing I could really do, can I?"

"Hey, at least you're not as much of a goody-goody as I originally thought?" he said and I raised my eyebrow in question. "A goody-goody wouldn't dare shoot a spitball at a jock."

"It was an accident!" I insisted.

"Sure," he said, smiling. "That's what they all say."

"Oh, so a lot of people _accidently_ spit spitballs at menacing jocks?" I asked dryly.

"Yes?" he answered, though it seemed more like a question. I just smiled and we continued on our way down the hall.

"Abby!" a feminine voice called from behind me and I turned around to see Tina hurrying up to meet me. She looked…frantic almost, and I didn't understand why.

"What's up?" I asked.

"It's Kurt," she explained. "Mercedes and I were just told why he's not here." I looked at her, instantly intrigued.

"Why?" I implored.

"His dad's in the hospital," Tina explained. "He had a heart attack."

Instantly, I froze. I couldn't even believe my ears. It was like I heard the words, but I couldn't understand, couldn't compute them.

"Is he okay?" Sam, who was still standing next to me, asked, and I was glad he asked because I don't think I would have been able to.

"He's in a coma."

"How's Kurt doing?" I questioned, managing to regain control of my voice long enough to ask the question.

At this, Tina seemed to deflate, "I don't know," she said. "We haven't seen him yet, so I'm worried. I know Mercedes is too. I can't even imagine what's going through his mind right now."

I didn't say it, but I knew what he was going through. I could distinctly remember those thoughts of mine.

And that was so much worse.

"It figures that the week we are celebrating God in Glee Club, something like this happens," I stated grimly. "And to Kurt of all people."

"Yeah," Tina agreed and her face was solemn. "I have to go find Mercedes; I think she's probably still going crazy with worry for Kurt and his dad."

"Go ahead," I insisted. "Thank you for telling me."

She nodded and walked away.

"I hope he and his dad are okay," Sam said, and then turned to me and maybe, he noticed how pale I had suddenly become because he asked me a question next, "Are you okay?"

"I'm…I'm fine," I said, the words coming out almost hesitantly. "I'm just worried about Kurt and his father."

"Didn't he loose his mother when he was younger?" Sam asked.

I nodded, "He can't loose another parent now."

"No one deserves that," Sam expressed.

"No," I said. "No one does."

* * *

><p><em>I continued on through the halls, probably getting lost. I didn't care where I went though, as long as I didn't end up in the morgue, I would be alright. I believed that.<em>

_I finally stopped, in a less populated area of the hospital and sat against the wall. I didn't want to cry. And for once in my life, it was a simple as that, I didn't. _

_Eventually someone came up to me, I assumed I was quiet a sight. Just standing there, eyes glazed over most likely. _

_At least the nurse didn't take me to the psych ward._

"_Hey, are you okay?" she asked, I looked up at the familiar face: Ingrid. Confusion flooded my face._

"_How did you find me?" I questioned instead of answering._

_She smiled, "This is where I normally work in the hospital," she stated._

"_Oh," I simply replied, though my other emotions were so overwhelming that I couldn't even feel the embarrassment._

"_Here," she said. "I'm busy with patients, but I have somewhere you can go."_

_She took me to a room that was empty besides a table, a few chairs, and a bed._

"_You can stay here," she said. "I'll find your counselor and tell him where you are." I looked hesitantly at the room. "I find it's easiest to vent by myself. Try it."_

_I nodded and finally moved into the room. She closed the door behind me, but not before giving me one last smile._

_So there I was. In a room by myself. Considering how well things have gone with people so far, the endings usually consisting of me leaving or crying, I thought that maybe Ingrid had it right. Maybe quiet was what I needed, but not nothingness. I could try meeting in the middle of so many words and nothingness. _

_First, I sat down on the bed, allowing both of my feet to be firmly planted on the ground, so my elbows could rest on them and my head would be cradled in the cup of my hands._

_Second, the sobs started, almost without warning. They were hard and excruciating sobs. They echoed in the room. They hurt, wrenching at my gut, my heart. I could feel it deep inside of me. And I was sobbing. This wasn't a meager cry, or even a cry of anger, it was something much worse. I could feel it sound throughout my body. It churned my insides. _

_There was no real way to describe it. It was desolation, but overflowing with emotion. It was a pain. A cold, uncharted pain that I've never felt before. And it was terrible. _

_Somehow, I fell forward off the bed, kneeling frontward with my back bent. My arms rested on the floor now and my hair trailed the ground. It was such a bright color compared to the pristine whiteness of the floor. It was a bright red and everything else: so bland. _

_The sobs didn't stop. I don't think I wanted them to._

_And that's when I remembered what I was leaning on. My right arm, so firmly planted on the ground that my bracelet had pressed into my flesh, leaving a mark of course, but not drawing blood. I picked my arm up and looked at it in accusation, even though there was no way this silly bracelet could be the cause for all that's happened today. Yet, I hated it. The feeling grew inside of me like the growling a monster until I just couldn't bare it anymore. _

_So I took the bracelet off and looked at it for about a half-a-second more before throwing it...straight at the wall._

_It cracked. Broken._

_Just another broken thing in my life._

* * *

><p>After I learned about Kurt's father, I couldn't help but let the bad thoughts into my head. The thoughts that I shouldn't think. Thoughts of death and desolation. Sadness and sorrow. Even guilt. I shouldn't think these things, and I shouldn't feel that churning in my stomach because of it. But they were true. All those bad thoughts in my head were true. And the worst? That while I was laughing and spitting spitballs, Kurt was finding out some of the worst news a kid could find out: their parent was in a hospital, in bad shape.<p>

It was sickening. My insides churned because it reminded of me of how I felt when I learned about my own parents, and I had been blissfully unaware that Kurt had just begun to feel _it_ again. That emotion that right now I could feel: shock.

And that's what it was. Shock.

It bit into me like a sharp dagger and gave off tremors that shook me to my core.

I didn't feel that pain though. It was just small pricks. Pinches.

That's all I felt: Pinches.

The shock had flooded over me and covered me quickly. It filled every inch of me, from head to toes. It was numbing in a way, so that was good. I didn't have to feel anything yet; it was too much to feel anyway. Shock allowed me not to feel. It was like getting high, but much safer because it was just a feeling. Only a feeling. Nothing more than that.

I wonder if this is what Kurt felt.

* * *

><p><strong>Thank you to all who reviewed and to everyone whose reading this story! It means a lot to me, so thanks. :) Special thanks to VoteFabray4Prom Queen for giving Sam and Abby a name! Sabby! I like it!<strong>

**I realize that my updating of this story is rather sporadic, but that's just because I've begun my softball season, so with practice being differing days, it's hard to tell which days I can devote sometime to write. But I'm not going to make excuses! I like writing this story, and honestly, it's a release. There was a recent death in my own family and even this story can be sad, I find myself being able to get through the grief easier sometimes by writing. I don't know. Maybe I'm crazy and just saddening myself some more. It doesn't matter, I'm still going to write this story. **

**Review please! **


	14. Chapter 14 Scatter

**Chapter 14 Scatter**

_2:57_

_The knock on the door broke me from my reverie. _

_In it, I had been back in six grade science class, discovering life webs and how everything connects. Each thing in an ecosystem was dependent on the other. You take one thing out, and the chain breaks._

_A family is like an ecosystem. There's the primary producers, the mom and dad, who give out their love and compassion, as fuel for the herbivores. I'd be an herbivore, taking in all that my parents gave me before I was eaten by a carnivore._

_But now the chain is broken; the primary producers gone. I had nothing, no fuel to keep me going. I was running on empty in a broken ecosystem._

_Don't even get me started on the lack of biodiversity._

_Still, like any species, I had to continue. I had to answer the door when someone knocked on it._

"_Yes?"_

"_Hey, Abby," greeted Mr. Meriwether. "There's something you need to see."_

_I looked up at him. Luckily no tears blurred my eyes, I was officially dry of tears. I wouldn't be surprised if I couldn't cry again for another several years._

"_What is it?" I asked._

_He smiled._

_Not a full smile, with flashing teeth or anything, but a smile all the same. It was genuine. It was real._

_And even though the reality seemed bleak, I knew that I couldn't let myself give up in this new ecosystem, any time soon._

"_I'm coming."_

* * *

><p>People look at me and they think my life is well-thought out.<p>

First of all, I'm an organized person. Enter my room, and you'll see how everything has its own place. Everything is clean. Everything seems to be put neatly and their places thought out with painstaking effort, and this is true. I do take the effort to make my room look clean and organized, to make my life seem planned and controlled.

But its not.

Sometimes I loose this control. It's like I'm on a rollercoaster that keeps on this track. It keeps chugging and chugging along. Until finally you reach the end of the ride and you have to get off. It's those moments, of what's next? and what do I do? that I see how completely unsure my life is. How at any moment my life that has been hanging precariously on this little thread, could fall off, fall apart, and generally, wreak havoc.

Chaos is ever-present in my life too. I'd say that I could thrive in chaos, easily enough. Of course, I prefer quiet. It's simpler that way. But there are moments of chaos, pockets of misfortune where you _don't _know what's going to happen next.

Even my organized bedroom has a drawer of miscellaneous things; items which don't have a home or a place. However, that drawer is hidden to the untrained eye, so that without further inspection, no one can see that there are some things that don't give in to order easily. There are some things that simply, don't make sense.

That drawer is just a sign, maybe a small, insignificant one, but a sign all the same that there's chaos everywhere in my life.

And there's nothing I can do about it.

By now, all I could do was keep chugging along, until that next moment came.

I just hoped it wasn't going to happen soon, especially not now that it was time for Glee club.

We had all walked into Glee club quietly. Even though I was still the new kid, I knew enough that it was strange to walk so solemnly into the choir room. This was the place of music and laughter, so obviously I hadn't expected it to be so quiet. But it was.

I sat down adjacent to Quinn, and I was close enough to hear Brittany and Santana talking to Kurt.

"Hey Kurt," Santana began, "we're really sorry about your dad's heart attack."

"Thanks Santana."

"I did a book report on heart attacks if you want to give it to the doctor," Brittany stated. "I got knocked down an entire letter grade because it was written in crayon."

The two cheerleaders moved to sit down, just as Finn came walking in.

"What the hell happened?" he asked.

"My dad's in the hospital," Kurt replied.

"I know; my mom just called me. I feel like I'm the last one to know!"

"Well, I'm sorry Finn," Kurt stated. "It didn't occur to me to call you because he's not your father."

"Yeah well he's the closest I'm ever going to get!" Finn exclaimed. "Look, I know it's not may not look like what everybody else has, but I thought we were…sort of a family."

Kurt didn't reply, instead he sat down.

"I guess I just didn't like hearing other people talking about it," he continued.

Finally, Kurt conceded and moved his bag so that Finn could sit down next to him.

"Hey guys," Mr. Schue began, "our thoughts are all with Kurt, and I know it's sort of hard to really focus on anything else-"

"Mr. Schue," Mercedes interrupted. "I've been struggling with what to say to Kurt all day, and I realize I don't want to say it, I want to sing it."

The teacher nodded to her, so Mercedes got up and started handing out music to the band.

"This song is about being in a dark place and turning to God," she explained. "It's a spiritual song, Mr. Schue. Is that okay?"

"It's fine."

"Tina, Quinn, can you help me out please?"

_As I lay me down_  
><em>Heaven hear me now<em>  
><em>I'm lost without a cause<em>  
><em>After giving it my all<em>

_Winter storms have come_  
><em>And darkened my sun<em>  
><em>After all that I've been through<em>  
><em>Who on earth can I turn to?<em>

_I look to you,_  
><em>I look to you<em>  
><em>After all my strength is gone<em>  
><em>In you I can be strong<em>  
><em>I look to you,<em>  
><em>I look to you<em>  
><em>And when melodies are gone In you I hear a song<em>  
><em>I look to you<em>

_Have to lose my breath_  
><em>There's no fighting left<em>  
><em>Sinking to rise no more<em>  
><em>Searching for that open door<em>

_And every road that I've taken_  
><em>Led to my regret<em>  
><em>And I don't know if I'm go'n make it<em>  
><em>Nothing to do but lift my head<em>

_I look to you,_  
><em>I look to you<em>  
><em>After all my strength is gone<em>  
><em>In you I can be strong<em>  
><em>I look to you,<em>  
><em>I look to you<em>  
><em>And when melodies are gone In you I hear a song<em>  
><em>I look to you<em>

_My levees are broken_  
><em>My walls are coming down on me<em>  
><em>My rain is falling<em>  
><em>Defeat is calling<em>  
><em>I need you to set me free<em>  
><em>Take me far away from the battle<em>  
><em>I need you<em>  
><em>Shine on me!<em>

_I look to you,_  
><em>I look to you<em>  
><em>After all my strength is gone<em>  
><em>In you I can be strong<em>  
><em>I look to you,<em>  
><em>I look to you<em>  
><em>And when melodies are gone In you I hear a song<em>  
><em>I look to you<em>

"Thank you Mercedes," Kurt stated. "You're voice is stunning, but I don't believe in god."

"Wait, what?"

"You've all professed your beliefs, I'm just stating my mind," he explained. "I think God is kind of like Santa Claus for adults. Otherwise, God is kind of a jerk, isn't he? He makes me gay then has his followers going around telling me it's something that I chose as if someone would choose to be mocked every single day…Right now, I don't want my heavenly father; I want my real one back."

"But Kurt, how can you be sure?" Mercedes asked. "How can you prove that there is no god?"

"You can't prove that there's a magic teapot floating around on the dark side of the moon with a dwarf inside of it that reads romance novels and shoots lighting out of it boobs, but it seems pretty unlikely, doesn't it?"

"Is God an evil dwarf?" Brittany muttered.

"We shouldn't be talking like this!" Quinn proclaimed. "It's not right."

Kurt only shook his head as he stood up, "I'm sorry Quinn, but you all can all believe whatever you want to, but I can't believe something I don't. I appreciate your thoughts, but I don't want your prayers."

* * *

><p><em>3:10<em>

"_These are your parent's last possessions," the doctor explained. "The ones that weren't damaged by the flight."_

_I knew that he meant that these were the possessions not destroyed the plane's crash. The ones not bearing signs of the death and destruction._

_That doesn't mean, I didn't eagerly look at the remains._

_There weren't a lot of things._

_That was the first thing I noticed looking down at my parent's belongings. It's wasn't a whole lot. None of there clothes were here. I had expected that much. Neither was anything from their luggage; who knows what happened to that. Really, all it was were the things, not flammable and not easily blighted. _

_For example, my mom's wedding ring. They hadn't been able to find my dad's, but there my mom's was. Right in front of me. There were other small things too. _

_My dad's camera, but the memory card was ruined and it was partially damaged so it could only take pictures now, no video. _

_Or there was a shoe. One shoe. It was my dad's, and wasn't even that nice of a shoe._

_I couldn't help but get a little mad._

_A **shoe** survived the crash, but its wearer didn't. My parents didn't._

_But I wasn't about to cry again. Besides, like I had thought earlier: I probably couldn't. Instead, I took a few deep breaths and looked back down at the items._

_It was then that it hit me._

_None of these items, besides the wedding ring, held much importance to me. They were just things. Nothings. They were items which normally would mean nothing to me. But now they were supposed to mean something. They were supposed to. But they didn't. Yes, they were my parent's last things, but honestly, I couldn't help but think they were like the carcass of a dead animal. And no one wants that smell._

"_I don't want to keep anything of it, besides this," I said, holding up the ring. The doctor and Mr. Meriwether looked at me strangely. "I mean, that is what you brought me here for. You wanted me to tear up at the sight of my parent's things because you were giving me their last things…but I can't. These things don't mean anything to me. They don't."_

"_Abby, if you're sure-"_

"_Trust me," I began. "I'm sure. In fact…"_

_I took the items and went over to the nearby trash._

"_They don't mean anything to me."_

* * *

><p><strong>Sam<strong>

My mother always teased me about how oblivious I could be at times. She said I inherited it from my father, and from what I have seen, I'm assuming she wasn't far off point. You see, my father and I were the type of people who when playing hide seek, search the most obscure places first. Sometimes, we can't see what's right in front of us; no matter how obvious it is. We search every cranny and nook, before finding that what we were looking for was right in front of our faces.

It's not that I don't try to look. It's like I want to go the hard way around things, but sometimes it just happens, and there's nothing I can do about it.

"A man who carries a cat by the tail learns something he can learn in no other way" was what my mother told the two of us. She tried to use a quote from somebody famous as much as she could. I believe she read somewhere that they help kids learn life lessons like all those famous people did or something like that. Either way, I had heard so many throughout the years that I've come to memorize a few.

Apparently, I was supposed to be wise by now. Somehow, I knew that wasn't true. But hey, that's what tutors are for. Although, it's beginning to feel like Abby and I do a lot less tutoring. Instead, we just talk. It started off with simple pleasantries. Heck, I'm sure we even talked about the weather a few times. Eventually, it progressed into more normal topics. School, sports, and whatnot. She didn't seem to like to talk about her home life that much, so I didn't ask. I was wise enough to know that there was some things people just didn't like to talk about. Though, as long as the topic wasn't about trouty-mouths, I was fine.

Even though I was oblivious at some occasions, it doesn't mean that I can't tell when something's wrong. Sometimes you just _know_; like your gut is talking to you. It's telling you what you can't see.

It was telling me something right now.

First, it was the way Abby sat in her chair. For an oblivious guy, something about it seemed wrong to me. She always seemed so much more…open, but today something was wrong. She was more closed off.

"How's it going?" I asked, as I set my binder on the library table we often used and sat down.

"Huh?" she said suddenly, her eyes coming to focus on me.

That was the second thing I noticed, how her eyes had this glassy, faraway look. My gut was speaking loudly that day because it was blaringly blatant that something was off.

"What? Oh, I'm fine," she answered, brushing it off.

And that was the third thing. "I'm fine." The phrase she so often used. It just seemed…fake. It didn't seem to hold any meaning. It was just words.

"How are you?" she returned.

"Good," I replied, still looking at her curiously. "I'm a bit overloaded with homework and all, but I'm good. In fact, I'm fine."

I tested the words to see how it sounded when someone else said, but when I said them, it didn't feel like when she said them, and I could tell that there was something wrong.

"Figures," she muttered. "Only the start of the year, and we're already bombarded with homework."

"Yeah," I agreed, noticing how she went straight off topic.

"Anyway," she began, "let's get to work."

I pulled at math and while doing so, I looked at her sideways from across the table.

"Sooo," I began. "How's Kurt's dad?"

"Good," she replied. "I haven't heard a lot, but I think some of the girls from Glee club are planning on going to his hospital. They're going to try praying for him."

"That's nice of them."

"Yeah," she said, with a flicker of a smile on her lips. "It is."

"Are you okay?" I questioned, almost nervously. I mean, I wasn't the best at this type of thing. These emotions. My mom's quotes hadn't taught me everything.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" she pointed out. "I'm just really sorry for Kurt. But besides that I'm-"

"-fine?" I cut in.

She looked up at me, worried questioning in her eyes.

"Yeah. Fine," she agreed, pausing as if to cover her tracks, she then spoke again, "If anything, I'm worried that Kurt's not going to accept help. Or that he's going to keep lying to himself, thinking that our positive thoughts don't mean anything."

"A lie can travel half way around the world while the truth is putting on its shoes," I quoted. "Mark Twain said it, so it must be true."

She smiled, and for once, my gut wasn't telling me that it was fake.

"You memorized that?" she asked.

I shrugged my shoulders, "When you've heard it enough times, it seems to stick."

Abby looked away again.

"I hope so."

* * *

><p><strong>Abby<strong>

_3:45_

_Somehow I made it back to my dorm. _

_I don't exactly know how; it was all a blur. But mainly, I don't exactly care._

_Once arriving back at my school, I had gone straight to my room. The principal Mrs. Davis had greeted me at the door. Her hand had wavered in the air as she moved to put it comforting on my shoulder. I hadn't allowed her to; I gave her a nod, and then I was gone, walking off in the direction of the girl's dorm. Hopefully, I could escape there._

_No one knew yet. It's not like they go announcing through the halls that one of the school's very own has just become an orphan, but maybe they should have. I knew I was quite a sight, what with my makeup smeared and eyes all red. It didn't matter much though because everyone was still in class. I remember briefly thinking to myself, about the work I had missed that day, but that was the only mundane thought that crossed my mind._

_So somehow, I managed to make it to my dorm. And now I was here, sitting simply on my bed. I knew I wasn't going to cry. It's was one of those things, when your gut told you something and you had to listen. I just **knew**, and for that I was thankful. _

_I decided to take a shower, hoping the water would drown all these thoughts, all the bad. I knew it wouldn't. There was my gut again, telling me. I knew nothing would help this feeling._

_When I went into the shower, I couldn't help but be reminded it that this was like one of those cliché shower scenes in the movies. Where the girl cries as the water hits her, and you just feel the complete desolation. I hated to say it, but I think my life had officially become a cliché. _

_I stood there for a while. It was longer than I had originally thought I would be there. I took so long than eventually I heard a knocking noise. Quickly stepping out of the shower, I looked at the clock, and I was surprised by the time._

_3:49_

_Was I really there that long?_

_There was no time to ponder this, instead I grabbed by towel, dried myself off and quickly put on some sweats. Then I went to the door, realizing I locked it, and that it must be my roommate trying to get in._

"_Hey Abby you in there?" Jenny called. "Can you please open the door? I need to get my coat."_

"_Coming," I stated, my voice coming out rugged and coarse._

_I moved to the door, my hand hesitating over the handle._

_What should I say?_

_Do you tell your roommate that the reason you locked up yourself in your room was because your parents died? How do you say that nonchalantly? Wouldn't she see that I was so completely messed up right now, so no excuse would work right? _

_I knew I couldn't tell her yet, she would probably find out from someone else at least; someone who wouldn't cry at the mere thought of them knowing._

_So I said my first lie, in a long list to come._

_I opened the door quickly and then moved swiftly to the bathroom again._

"_I'm not done with my shower yet," I explained as I opened the door to the bathroom._

"_Okay," she said. "I'll be out of your hair in a moment."_

_From my side of the door, I heard Jenny rummaging around for her sweat shirt._

"_Why did you leave early today Abby?" she asked. "I heard that you were called out of class."_

"_Oh yeah, well, I was called to the office to get the work I requested because I was going to miss that day when my parents were planning to come done," I explained quickly, rather I lied quickly. "Then I wasn't feeling to well, so I decided to sleep it off."_

"_Well, I hope you get better," she said perkily. "Some of the girls and I are going out tonight if you're feeling better later. Feel free to join us!"_

"_If I'm feeling better I will," I promised, knowing that I wouldn't feel better. That even though I wasn't sick, this bad feeling wouldn't be relieved anytime soon._

"_Okay!" she chirped. I heard the door open and close as she exited. When she left I leant on my back onto the door, and slowly sat on the ground._

_There was something wet on my face, but I blamed it on the shower._

* * *

><p><em>5:42<em>

_I sat there for a while, eventually curling up into the ball on the ground. I was vaguely aware that there had been an announcement on the intercoms that the principal and guidance counselor would be coming to the girl's dorm. They didn't bug me though, so I thought I would be fine with it._

_The minutes passed until finally I heard the noise of footsteps _

_And then I heard voices._

"_Didn't you hear?" the hushed voice said. "Abby got called out of class today and you know why?"_

_My whole body tensed as these words were spoken because I knew what was coming next. I knew why Mrs. Davis and Mr. Meriwether had come to the dorm; they had told._

"_No why?" another voice questioned._

"_Her parents got in that plane crash that was on the news, and they died," she said, emphasizing the last word._

"_That's horrible!" the other girl said. "Poor Abby!"_

"_Yeah, and I heard that now she has to move away and live with some hillbillies in Ohio," she continued. "Ohio!"_

_I hadn't heard about this, but I did know that Ohio was where my aunt lived. I guess it made sense that I would be going to live there. Mr. Meriwether and Mrs. Davis must have told the girls that I wouldn't be staying at this school much longer, which I again, didn't know. Yet, it all made sense._

"_Oh, that's a shame," the voice said. "Hey, that's her room!" Their voices got even quieter now, but I could still barely hear them. "Should we talk to her?"_

"_I wouldn't know what to say."_

"_Yeah, you're right," she continued, then finally she spoke that last words I heard before they walked away._

"_Poor Abby."_

* * *

><p><em>6:34<em>

_Somewhere between wanting to disappear from this world and thinking that all this was a dream, I realized I was thirsty. _

_I knew to get a bottle of water, that I would have to go done stairs, and that, that would mean more people, mainly, more people who knew._

_But I was thirsty, so thirsty in fact, that I forced myself to get up and out of my room._

_Slowly, I walked down the stairs. As soon as my foot caused the stairs to creaks, head turned. Then whispers occurred and more heads turned, until finally everyone was staring at me. _

_A few of the girls, looked like they wanted to stand up and say something, but no one did. I knew why. _

_I was different now. An oddity of sorts. I wasn't the old Abby. I wasn't the girl these people knew. Sure, it had happened this morning, but in that short amount of time, I had been changed. And now I was different. _

_I didn't want to be different._

_I didn't want to be this fragile little girl, who everything thought that with one false move, that I was going to break._

_So as I walked back up stairs, water bottle in hand, I made a promise to myself that if I am going to start over, that people wouldn't think of me this way. They wouldn't know._

_I didn't want to be different. _

* * *

><p>"Last week we were too sexy, this week we're too religious, we can't win!" Tina exclaimed.<p>

"Now I know what Miley feels like," Brittany pointed out.

"The real tragedy here is that I found the most perfect spiritual song to sing this week and now it's been torn away from me like Sophie's daughter," Rachel complained.

Mr. Schue sighed, "Guys, you can still sing whatever songs you like that sum up your feelings about God, about spirit, you just can't do it on school time."

"I hope your happy Kurt," Santana stated.

"Having the week of my life actually," he replied dryly.

"Guys, back off Kurt," Mr. Schue demanded. "Okay, he had every right to speak his mind."

"Look Kurt we're sympathetic to what you're going through, but siding with Ms. Sylvester isn't going to do anyone any good," Mercedes explained.

Kurt objected, "It's doing me some good. Now I don't have to sit around listening to all you mental patients talk about how there's a god, when I know there isn't one."

That's when I decided to speak up.

"Kurt's not the only one who doesn't believe," I began hesitantly. "I don't either."

"You don't?" Quinn asked, looking at me sharply, and she wasn't the only one.

"No," I stated. "I don't. So it's not just Kurt, okay? I don't believe in God."

I had come to my decision. Somehow, between all the singing and the drama of the past few days, I came to my decision on which religion to believe in, or as it happened, what I didn't believe in. So now saying it aloud, even seeing some of the confused faces, had seemed to make it final.

But why did I feel like there's a part missing?

* * *

><p>It was right after Glee club, that Kurt walked up to me at my locker.<p>

"You didn't have to do that," he said. "You don't need to be additionally judged by our more gullible peers."

"I'm fine with it Kurt," I explained. "I get that I'm new here still, so maybe I shouldn't go around sharing my opinions, however it sort of felt good…But do you want to know the truth Kurt? I don't know what to believe anymore. My family is religious, but I can't seem to accept it. I guess, I basically want to believe, but can't."

"Well, there's nothing to believe in," Kurt assured. "I can guarantee you that."

He turned away suddenly, but I reached out to stop him.

I didn't know what to say, but I did know that I was starting to believe that I couldn't believe. That even though I wanted to have faith, that I'm not for sure I could. Maybe, that's what influenced me to stop him from walking away and to open my big mouth again.

"Look, I know you don't what my condolences for your father's illness; you must have had enough of them by now," I explained slowly. "But I think one of the reasons that I spoke up in Glee club because I didn't want you to feel alone about this whole situation, both what's happening with your father and your beliefs, or lack thereof."

"So is not feeling alone supposed to make me feel better?" he asked sardonically.

"No," I answered, trying to be resilient. "It's just supposed to make feel like you have some support from someone like you, who doesn't believe. Maybe, I wanted you to not feel alone in that way because I know the feeling, and I honestly, don't want anyone else to feel it. So basically…yes, I'm like you. I don't believe in God. That doesn't mean that I don't believe want to believe something else that's maybe not bigger than us, but just different. I can't help but feel that that thing, whatever it is, _is_ there. Heck, maybe I'm crazy and just want to believe that I'm not alone, but it's still what I want to believe."

Kurt nodded slowly, looking at me strangely, "And why do you know want to?"

This is where my breath caught, that assurance I had a second ago, vanishing into thin air.

"We all have moments where we feel alone," I muttered, knowing that it didn't really explain it, but I ready yet. I wasn't ready for it to be known yet. "If someone else is there, then we're not truly ever alone."

Perhaps, that meant I was living in a double standard. I didn't want to feel alone, and I want to openly embrace people, yet I know I can't. I know that it would hurt me to. A part of me still couldn't help it, and that part was loud and clear in my head.

"Anyway, I have to go," I announced. "And I am sorry about your dad. Having something happen to your parents is one of the hardest things that could happen when you're young." Realizing I might have said too much, I quickly ended the conservation. "I'll see you at later, okay?"

He nodded again, and this time his face a look of puzzlement and maybe something else.

I couldn't tell what.

* * *

><p><strong>I titled this chapter scatter because while writing and then rereading it, I found that each part seem segmented. Maybe that's just me, but that's what I felt. I did that purposefully (well sort of), but anyone that just one of my personal musings, now what I really have to say.<strong>

**I'm sorry that I haven't update in like a month, but even though I'm not defending myself, there were numerous factors including school (in which every teacher decided to assign a big project at the same time), sports (softball!), and basically life. My weekends have been filled to the brim with stuff, and I'm just starting to get annoyed. Even this weekend I'm busy, but I got some inspiration to write so I did. And that's another thing, lack of inspiration. I realize it's partially because this story's not very popular (but I do say a major thanks to all of you who review and anyone who even read it) and also because I'm been creatively drained lately. While my head is full of stories, actually writing it down has been a trouble.**

**But please don't let this deter you. I'm still going to write this story because why not? **

**I like writing "Sabby" moments, and please tell if you like how their relationship is evolving. Anything is helpful really, and is appreciated.**

**:)**


	15. Chapter 15 Pity

**Chapter 15 Pity**

**Abby**

"_Where do I go now?"_

_It was morning of the next day. I couldn't yet phrase the words in my head, that my parents were…gone. It felt like when you're trying to put a puzzle together and you feel like these two pieces are so similar so that they should fit, but they never do. Even though I couldn't find a way to put those pieces together, I thought I deserved a thousand plaudits for trying. _

_When I awoke this morning, there had been a strange clarity to my mind. It reminded of when the windows get fogged over so much that you can write little messages on the windows with your fingers. Somewhere in my mind, someone had written in the message that I had to figure what to do now._

_One of the blaring messages was that I needed to get up._

_There I had been lying on my bed balling my eyes out like it was the end of the world. However, the thing was that when it's the end of the world, you don't do boring things; you go out and explore; do something you would have never done before. Why was I there doing nothing? It certainly seemed like my world was imploding, and I was letting it happen. Even if there didn't appear as if there was anything I could do about it, I was still just sitting being useless. I pitied myself. After I said that that was the one thing I did not want: pity. But I was, acting like a hypocrite; pitying myself._

_So I got up, and I asked the question that I needed to know._

"_Where do I go now?"_

_It's almost amazing how five words can resound so loudly in a person's head. But they do. They did in mine._

_They weren't even poetic words like "I love you."_

_I think it would be a lot easier if they were._

* * *

><p>"I know things have been pretty morose around here for the past week," Mr. Schue began, "but I want to celebrate some good news for our little family. Let's hear it for Finn, for getting back his Quarterback job and leading the Titans to a win in their second game of the season!" He began clapping and was soon joined by the rest of the club in his applause.<p>

"Yeah, too bad that Sam kid had to have his arm basically ripped off for it to happen," Puck congratulated. I winced, remembering Sam's injury. I had gone to the game, and I saw it happen. I could tell it was going to leave a mark, to say the least. "It's good to have you back in the saddle, brother."

"Mr. Schue, if I may," Kurt began as the clapping died away. He got up from his seat and moved to the middle of the room. "I'd like to thank everyone for your kind emails and queries about my dad, even if I don't believe in the same things that you all do. Well, except for Abby, who I might add is the only _sane_ person in this room besides me."

"That reminds me Abby. You never said why you don't believe in God," Quinn recalled, turning in her seat to look at me.

"Is it because you have red hair and thus will forever be called a soulless ginger?" Santana piped up cheekily (unhelpfully too I might add).

"No," I denied vehemently, glaring at her before slowly releasing a breath and answering Quinn's question. "To tell you the truth, it was a personal choice for me, and for that reason, I'd rather not explain further. My family is actually religious; my dad's side is Jewish and my mom's side Christian. I'm just not anything really. I like to think that I am a little faithful though, just for the sake of having faith."

Quinn looked somewhat satisfied with my answer, but not fully convinced, which made sense. I hardly knew where I stood on the issue of religion, I couldn't very well expect someone else to see it how I do. Still, I should probably have expected that Santana would just use what I said for further remarks.

"So what, you decided your flaming red hair wasn't enough, you also wanted to be unique when it came to being religious?" Santana continued with her sarcastic comments.

"No! And would you quit it about my hair! I'll have you know a lot the members of family are redheads."

"Oh, is one of your ancestors a parrot by chance? That would certainly explain your red plumage."

"Santana!" Mr. Schue stopped. "That's enough redhead jokes."

"I thought redheads were just blondes with high blood pressure," Brittany stated quietly.

I just looked at her, so confused.

"Fine," Santana began, sighing, "I'll stop the jokes, even if your hair reminds me of Santa Claus." She earned another glare for that one from me, but I decided not to push the issue. From what I'd seen, I don't think Santana was the kind of person you'd want on your bad side. "I'm just trying to relieve the tense atmosphere in the room. But I think I'm out of redhead insults, so back to Lady Hummel."

Kurt raised an eyebrow in her direction before speaking. "Thanks for that Santana." Then he sucked in a breath before speaking again. "I appreciate the support from you all, and for your information my dad's condition remains the same." He paused, and in that moment I couldn't help but remember my own dad. The little things he'd do that would remind me why I was so fortunate to have had him as my father. Everything…but just as quickly, the sentiment slipped away. "I need to express myself, so with your permission Mr. Schue, I've prepared a number for the occasion."

"Of course Kurt."

"On the day of my mom's funeral, when they were lowering her body into the ground, I was crying. I mean, that was it. That was the last time I was ever going to see her."

Memories were flooding back even more now. I could I remember the funeral clear enough. It had taken place in New York, for even though that wasn't where either of my parents were from or even lived at the point, it was where they fell in love.

It was fitting.

As for the bleak blackness of the funeral, I had thought it was fitting to my mood.

The one thing I remembered the most of that day, had been my stomach as it grumbled. Yes, of all the things, I recall being hungry. Of course, sadness had been ever present, as well as a great wave of depression, but I also had been so hungry. It was such a strange thought to think of now; being famished at a funeral. But I had been. I had skipped breakfast because the black dress I had to wear was new, and I had had a meltdown, saying that I wouldn't wear it because it had been just a little too small. I remember my aunt had sat down on my bed, right next to where the dress was laid out. She looked at me and told me that she knew what I was doing. She knew that I hadn't wanted to go, and was now picking at anything I could that would stop me from going to the funeral, so I wouldn't have to see my parents off.

At that moment in time, I don't think either my aunt or I would have realized the relationship that would begin to form between the two of us. She had always been my aunt, but things change when someone becomes your guardian and takes over that position as your parent; especially if you're like me and refuse to accept their new acquisition.

I tried to pull my mind out of those thoughts though, as Kurt spoke up again.

"…I looked up at my dad and I, I just wanted him to say something; just something to make me feel like my whole world wasn't over. And he just took my hand and squeezed it, and just knowing that those hands were there to take care of me, that was enough. This is for my dad."

_Oh yeah, I'll tell you something  
>I think you'll understand<br>When I say that something  
>I wanna hold your hand<br>I wanna hold your hand  
>I wanna hold your hand<em>

_Oh, please, say to me_  
><em>You'll let me be your man<em>  
><em>and please, say to me<em>

_You'll let me hold your hand_  
><em>Now let me hold your hand<em>  
><em>I wanna hold your hand<em>

_And when I touch you I feel happy, inside_  
><em>It's such a feeling<em>  
><em>That my love<em>  
><em>I can't hide<em>  
><em>I can't hide<em>  
><em>I can't hide<em>

I knew everyone was tearing up around. Even some of the tougher guys, seemed to be close to the point of shedding a few. All of the girls had already I think, but then there was me.

My whole body seemed to freeze up, but not in the way that it was cold. Not like that, though, everyone always said I felt cold, though I was warm on the inside (I was no Edward Cullens, mind you), but maybe I just gave off the image of someone frozen. It's as if I'm unable to move forward, or backwards; like I'm on the one seesaw in the world that's evenly balanced.

To tell you the truth, maybe I was just hardened because inside I pitied myself for not having a hand to hold. Of course, I refused to accept everyone who was willing to give me hand. There were only two sets of hands that I really wanted to hold as of this moment.

_Yeah you, got that something_

_I think you'll understand_  
><em>When I say that something<em>  
><em>I wanna hold your hand<em>  
><em>I wanna hold your hand<em>  
><em>I wanna hold your hand<em>

_And when I touch you I feel happy, inside_  
><em>It's such a feeling<em>  
><em>That my love<em>  
><em>I can't hide<em>  
><em>I can't hide<em>  
><em>I can't hide<em>

_Yeah you, got that something_  
><em>I think you'll understand<em>  
><em>When I say that something<em>  
><em>I wanna hold your hand<em>  
><em>I wanna hold your hand<em>  
><em>I wanna hold your hand<em>  
><em>I wanna hold your ha-a-a-a-a-a-and<em>

I think I was the first person to bolt out of the room when the bell rang.

I hadn't wanted anyone to see me as I was: frozen.

If only Santana was right, and my hair really was flaming. Maybe then I would warm up.

* * *

><p><strong>Sam<strong>

The first time I saw my life flash before my eyes was summer camp before sixth grade.

Coming into the camp, I should have expected that something bad was going to happen. First of all, I had forgotten to bring my lucky pen. I know that it is a little nerdy that I had a lucky pen for my good luck charm (or that I even have one), but for some reason I liked that pen. I think I mostly used that particular writing utensil so much because of my dyslexia. Using the same ink and same writing utensil, somehow seemed to make the words jumble just a little less. I realize that I'm probably insane to think that, but as my mom would say "Man's mind is like a store of idolatry and superstition; so much so that if a man believes his own mind it is certain that he will forsake God and forge some idol in his own brain."

So yes, I believed that I had a lucky pen.

It just so happened that when I was in the rush of packing my things for camp, that I forgot to bring my writing implement.

Naturally, I had been worried, but I was determined to make this camp be fun, so I stuck with it and tried not to dread on my lost pen.

Yet, the missing pen wasn't the only thing amiss about this camping experience.

The actual campsite with log cabins and a fire pit was beaten down and old; completely obsolete compared to other camps my friends had bragged about going to. I had still forced myself to make the best out of things though.

Come the third day of camp, my cabin group was going to climb the rock wall.

I had never been overly afraid of heights. I've just had the natural apprehension to them, which was probably good for survival and what not. Still, climbing to the top of that rock wall, my courage had vanished quicker than I thought possible. It was then that the winds picked up, causing my seemingly thin harness to billow dangerously in the wind. I can still remember the click the cable made that day when it unhooked from my rope, causing me to plummet, fast.

My life had flashed by faster than it even took my courage to disappear. I saw my childhood memories, which included my mom, my dad, and my siblings. I had reached about fourth grade memories, when my descent had stopped sharply when the cable clicked back into place. I never went back on that rock wall, to say the least. However, I did find my lucky pen once I returned home to camp.

Now, the second time I saw my life flash before my eyes was my football game two night's ago. It was also the morning of that day that I lost my lucky pen…again. Somehow I knew it was the loss of the talisman, that one second I was standing proud being a quarterback, and the next moment I was lying on the ground and there was searing pain in my shoulder.

In between seeing the bulking player come hurtling my way and the moment where he knocked into me, I remembered my twelfth birthday party, when my little brother accidentally sat on my cake. And the moment where my parents told me we were moving to Ohio. Finally, I remembered McKinley, which led me to remembering that I had a lit paper due soon, which I was supposed to get Abby to read over.

Somehow, that all passed through my eyes before I was lying on my back in the middle of the football field. Coach Beiste telling Finn Hudson that he was now the QB.

What was worse was the news from the doctor saying that I wouldn't be able to football for a long while yet. Next he explained that I would have to wear a cast for a few days too.

To say the least, I was convinced that my pen had some sort of Voodoo magic because it definitely seemed that every time I lost it something bad would happen.

That's why I concluded that I should find a way to keep that pen safe…but first I would have to find it.

As I was thinking over where it possibly could have gone, I was struggling with getting my books out of my locker using only one hand. Then a familiar redheaded figure walked up besides me.

"You need some help?" Abby questioned.

"No," I denied, but that was when all of my books suddenly came tumbling out of my locker. "Okay, maybe."

She smirked, "And I thought I was the klutz." Still, Abby moved down to help me pick up my books. Our hands brushed just the slightest and I noticed that they were rather cold, but I didn't say anything.

"Hey, you try doing this with one arm! It's very difficult," I protested instead.

"I can imagine," she mused, looking at my arm. "Geesh, that's an awfully big cast. Are you sure you're okay?"

"Peachy," I replied, looking disgustingly down at the infernal hindrance of a cast.

"Hey, on the bright side, you can still do homework with your arm like that," she pointed out sarcastically.

"Great," I said. "Just what I need: more homework, no football."

"Come on, it's not so bad," she insisted. "When I was nine, I broke my leg being the usual klutz that I am when I fell down the stairs. I had to miss my ballet recital, but I instead went to watch my older brother's track meet. That's where I developed my love of running. I guess, in the end it wasn't _all_ bad."

"So you're saying that I should be grateful that ]my football season has been washed down the drain, and instead join something else?" I questioned dryly.

"Well, maybe not that exactly, but yeah why not?" she asked. "When life gives you lemons, make orange juice, then wonder how you did it."

At that I laughed, but it still didn't help my mood.

"What I'm trying to say Sam is that, maybe you can't do football now, but now you have so many other opportunities," she pointed out. "In fact, you know what you should do? You should join Glee club!"

"Oh no, I really don't know about that," I protested.

"I promise Sam you'll love Glee club," she continued. "And don't worry about the other meatheads who might try to dissuade you. Trust me, popularity isn't everything."

I puzzled over this for a moment, trying to weigh the pros and cons.

"Look, at the beginning of the year, I thought I was going to join Glee club, but that was when I was the football quarterback and I hadn't realized how dangerous Glee could be for a guy, but now…" I began. "Things are different. Things change. I don't know if I could even _survive_ joining Glee."

"How about you come up with a decision and then tell me later. Oh, and Sam before I forget," she began, reaching into her bag, "I found this yesterday, left on the table in the library. I realize it's just a pen, but I thought that it was yours and I know it might not even matter, but I thought I would give it to you anyway."

"My lucky pen!" I cried, receiving a confused (and slightly amused) look from Abby. Realizing that my cry wasn't very manly, I immediately coughed and spoke again, this time in a lower voice. "Thank you."

"Your very welcome," she said smiling, her eyebrows crunching in confusion just a little bit.

However, my smile was full blown.

"Hey, if you want, you can use it to write on my cast," I suggested.

"Are you sure? I wouldn't want to mess with your lucky pen," she explained, trying to keep a serious face. After receiving a glare from me, she laughed again. "I'm kidding, but I do have just the thing to say!"

"What?" I asked warily, expecting more lucky-pen jokes.

"You'll see."

She reached down and gently grasped my cast, causing us to get closer by a few inches. As she carefully wrote down a message, I watched, our proximity allowing me to smell a light vanilla perfume that I realized must be Abby's.

"What did you write?" I asked.

"Look for yourself."

Doing as she told, I looked down at my arm. _Get well soon Sam! P. S. You really should keep that pen around. You need all the luck you can get!_

I laughed at the note.

"Nice," I appraised. "Very encouraging."

"I hope so," she smiled. "But I do have to ask, is the pen really lucky?"

"I'd like to think so," I replied. "I have faith in it, so to me it is. Of course, it could just be a series of coincidences where I loose it and something bad happens or find it and something good happens, but I like to think that it is a little lucky. I mean, I know that it's weird to think of a pen as a lucky charm or talisman of all things, yet it is to me. I don't need to recount to you all the times where because of the little reassurance, I've felt more confident or when I've lost the pen and I had this feeling of complete and utter dread. I don't know. I'm probably crazy, but the pen is what it is to me. That's how I see it at least."

"No," Abby began slowly, as if she was still mulling it over. "I think you're right because we need all the little reassurances and sentiments that we can believe in." She paused for a moment before speaking again. "Anyway Sam, you should join Glee club. I think you'd be a great addition; we need all the crazy we can get!"

"You haven't even heard me sing," I protested.

"Well, we'll just have to fix that won't we?" she questioned.

I looked at her confused, but didn't have enough time to ask what she meant before the bell rang signaling first period was about to start.

"Meet me after school at the auditorium," she said.

I nodded before she smiled one last time and then hurriedly walked away to her class, leaving the pen in my hand.

I looked down at the writing utensil.

Maybe, it was a little lucky.

* * *

><p>"But that was just a dream. Try, cry, why try? That was just a dream Just a dream, just a dream, Dream..." Finn finished the song, leaving the rest of us in Glee club shocked, and leaving at least me, a little depressed.<p>

"I thought we couldn't sing about religion," Tina pointed out.

"_Evidently,_ we can't sing about faith, but we can sing about loosing faith?" Mercedes surmised.

"That's sort of what I want to talk about today," Mr. Schuester began. "Earlier in the week Finn it seemed like you felt differently."

"I use to think that God was up there looking over me," Finn explained. "Now I'm not so sure."

Next there was just a flat-out uncomfortable silence, in which I made the slightly foolish move of raising my hand.

"Um, Mr. Schue?" I began. "I have a song that I've prepared to sing."

"Oh, no. Not another song about not believing," Mercedes said dryly.

"Yeah, I'm sort of depressed already," Quinn continued.

"It's not a song like that," I stated. "In fact, it's not really religious at all. It's however you interpret it and Mr. Schue if I may…" I looked over to the teacher and he nodded his consent, so I got out of my seat and moved to the center of the room and nervously stood there, all the while my hands wringed anxiously.

Slowly, I took a deep breath in.

"I may not believe in God or follow a specific religion, but I do like to believe or at least try to…When things get bad, I think we all know that sometimes it's the only thing to do. And someone told me recently that it's nice to have those little reassurances or beliefs, and I can't help but agree. For me personally, sometimes I just have to let go and go with it. Believe in something, so that I'm not alone. I'm not saying that I'm specifically good at this "moving on" or even that I know what the heck I'm talking about, but that's exactly why I'm singing this song. I don't exactly know how to say it."

I nodded to the band and they began to play.

_Grew up in a small town  
>And when the rain would fall down<br>I'd just stare out my window  
>Dreaming of what could be<br>And if I'd end up happy  
>I would pray (I would pray)<em>

_Trying hard to reach out_  
><em>But when I tried to speak out<em>  
><em>Felt like no one could hear me<em>  
><em>Wanted to belong here<em>  
><em>But something felt so wrong here<em>  
><em>So I prayed I could break away<em>

_I'll spread my wings and I'll learn how to fly_  
><em>I'll do what it takes til' I touch the sky<em>  
><em>And I'll make a wish<em>  
><em>Take a chance<em>  
><em>Make a change<em>  
><em>And breakaway<em>  
><em>Out of the darkness and into the sun<em>  
><em>But I won't forget all the ones that I love<em>  
><em>I'll take a risk<em>  
><em>Take a chance<em>  
><em>Make a change<em>  
><em>And breakaway<em>

_Wanna feel the warm breeze  
>Sleep under a palm tree<br>Feel the rush of the ocean  
>Get onboard a fast train<br>Travel on a jet plane, far away (I will)  
>And breakaway<em>

_I'll spread my wings and I'll learn how to fly_  
><em>I'll do what it takes til' I touch the sky<em>  
><em>And I'll make a wish<em>  
><em>Take a chance<em>  
><em>Make a change<em>  
><em>And breakaway<em>  
><em>Out of the darkness and into the sun<em>  
><em>But I won't forget all the ones that I love<em>  
><em>I'll take a risk<em>  
><em>Take a chance<em>  
><em>Make a change<em>  
><em>And breakaway<em>

_Buildings with a hundred floors_  
><em>Swinging around revolving doors<em>  
><em>Maybe I don't know where they'll take me but<em>  
><em>Gotta keep moving on, moving on<em>  
><em>Fly away, breakaway<em>

_I'll spread my wings_  
><em>And I'll learn how to fly<em>  
><em>Though it's not easy to tell you goodbye<em>  
><em>I gotta take a risk<em>  
><em>Take a chance<em>  
><em>Make a change<em>  
><em>And breakaway<em>  
><em>Out of the darkness and into the sun<em>  
><em>But I won't forget the place I come from<em>  
><em>I gotta take a risk<em>  
><em>Take a chance<em>  
><em>Make a change<em>  
><em>And breakaway, breakaway, breakaway<em>

"So yeah," I explained finally. "That's how I see it."

* * *

><p><strong>I'm happy that I finished this chapter! It was so of hard to write and what I actually did was right to much, so as it turns out, I have another chapter that's practically done! So that's good news so I'll probably be able to update another chapter pretty soon. <strong>

**Anyway, I'm not for sure that I like the way I wrote Santana's part in the beginning of this chapter. Please tell me if you think she was OOC or not, and likewise with the rest of the characters. I'm not the best at writing her Santana slams, but I don't think it was too bad. On another note, the song at the end that Abby sang was "Breakaway" by Kelly Clarkson. I personally love the song, even if it's a little overdone at times. **

**I'm sad that Glee is over, but on the bright side, summer is almost here and I'm almost out of school! So that means without the stress of school I'll have more time to write. Yay! **

**Reviews are like the cherry on top so please take a few moments and click that button! :)**


	16. Chapter 16 The Orthodox Paradox

**Sorry, I forgot to mention it in the last chapter, but this is still part of Grilled Cheezus. Next chapter will be the start of Duets. Grilled Cheezus just turned out to be longer than I expected, probably because this chapter is crucial to the plot of this story. (You'll See)**

**Anyway, I don't if I've said this enough, but I do not own Glee or any of its characters. Nope, only own Abby, her aunt, mom, dad. I just sort of figured that was pretty self-explanatory...**

**:) Enjoy the chapter! It's extra long!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 16 The Orthodox Paradox<strong>

"So, what do you like to sing?" I asked him.

"Um…you know what normal teenagers my age like to sing," he explained, sounding more than a little unsure.

"Which is…" I prodded.

"Country, rap, just the average stuff."

"Not anything that Rachel Berry would select I'd presume?" I questioned, smiling at him.

"Rachel Berry?" he asked confused.

"Oh, that's right you're not in Glee club yet, so you won't understand that reference," I remembered. "Probably a good thing. _Anyway_, that's not the point. We need a song that we both know well enough to sing. I'm not one for rap really, so that leaves country…and I think I've got just the song."

I turned to the band which was set up on the stage behind them, I was about to tell them the song, before I hesitated for just a moment.

The song I thought of was a personal one, but it was my go to country song. When I was younger, my mom sang it to me and I had grown up singing it. But that's when I realized that's why the song would work.

As the music began to start playing, I started singing. _"Another day has almost come and gone, can't imagine what else could go wrong. Sometimes I'd like to hide away, somewhere and lock the door. A single battle lost but not the war."_

_"'Cause tomorrow's another day and I'm thirsty anyway. So bring on the rain."_

After the chorus ended, I looked to Sam, encouraging him to sing the next verse. He looked unsure, but then he sang, and the insecurity was gone, it seemed to vanish into the air and instead changed to a bubbly confidence.

_"It's almost like the hard times circle 'round. A couple drops and they all start comin down."_

I couldn't help but smile as he sang. I knew I made the right choice my encouraging him to join Glee club.

I joined my voice with his for the next verse. "_Yeah, I might feel defeated, I might hang my head, I might be barely breathing, but I'm not dead."_

_No, cause tomorrow's another day,_  
><em>and I'm thirsty anyway,<em>  
><em>So bring on the rain.<em>

_No I'm not gonna let it get me down._  
><em>I'm not cry,<em>  
><em>and I'm not gonna lose any sleep tonight.<em>

He seemed to get the hang out of it easily and for a moment, we were both smiling crazily just singing. We were happy.

_'Cause tomorrow's another day,  
>and I am not afraid,<br>so bring on the rain._

_tomorrow's another day,_  
><em>and I'm thirsty anyway,<em>  
><em>so bring on the rain.<em>

_No I'm not gonna let get me down,_  
><em>I'm not gonna cry.<em>  
><em>so bring on the rain.<em>

_Bring on the rain_  
><em>Bring on the rain<em>

"Not bad, Country Boy," I smirked.

"Well, I do try," he explained, his quirky smile appearing.

"You realize now that you have to join the Glee club," I stated.

"And why's that?"

"Once you go Glee club, you don't go back," I clarified with a grin. "But honestly, I could tell you had fun singing. You can't deny that you didn't feel this sense of…elation when you sing. It's addictive in a way."

"So what, now I got the Glee bug?"

"Definitely."

Sam smiled, "That reminds me, I really wanted to say thanks for finding my pen yesterday."

"Oh, it was no big deal…" I explained, my eyebrows scrunching up at the thought of a pen having great importance. "I mean, it's just a pen, albeit a lucky one."

"Yeah, well it was to me, so I got you this." He pulled something out of his pocket and held it out in his hand to me.

"Another pen?" I questioned. "From Carl Howell Dentistry?" Was he saying I had bad teeth? "Well, I'll be sure to use next time I need to write something, but…"

"No, it's not just a pen," Sam explained. "I mean, it be kind of weird to just give someone a pen."

"Right," I agreed, but voice still sounded a little unsure, and frankly, a little amused.

"But what makes it special, is because it's lucky," he explained.

"What makes it so lucky?"

"I found on the first day I met you," he said bashfully, his voice getting softer. He shrugged his shoulders, in that nonchalant way guys do when they don't want something to appear as if it's a big deal, when it could be looked like as one.

"Oh."

"Well, I think it's pretty lucky because now I have an awesome tutor and a friend," he quickly stated, still in a slightly embarrassed way.

"Yes," I agreed. "Great friends."

"Anyway," Sam began. "I hope it's not weird or anything. I just think that everyone needs a good luck charm, whether it's a pen or a four-leaf clover."

"No, Sam it's per-" I stopped for a second, realizing I almost said perfect. It's not like that should be a big deal. It was just a word right? But the pen wasn't perfect, not it was something else. "It's fitting."

Because I didn't want it to be different.

* * *

><p><strong>Third<strong>

"_How is she?" the voice on the phone asked. Though the distance, Mrs. Davis could hear the care that flourished in the feminine tone. _

_The principal really hated calls like these. Even if she's never made one before that was as grave as this one._

"_She's...well she's not taking it in the most positive of ways; not as good as I would wish she was, but you can't really blame the girl…I have alerted all faculty and students to what has happened to her, and they've been informed to give Ms. Johnson her time and space. I'm sorry Ms. Finch, but I've never have to deal with this sort of thing. I've got the counselor and he's been trying to talk with her, but I don't think Abby wants his help truthfully..."Mrs. Davis, the principal, explained. Her worried voice reminded Cheryl Finch, who was on the other end of the line, of a little bird as it pecked nervously. "Again, Ms. Finch, I am truly sorry. Abby's mom was your sister right?"_

"_Yes," Cheryl replied, "She is-was my sister."_

"_My condolences."_

"_Thank you."_

"_You are Abby's legal guardian now? Am I correct?" asked the principal._

_Cheryl nodded, but remembering that she was on the phone quickly answered, "Yes."_

_She was always forgetting those types of things, especially when she was stressed._

"_So she will be going to live with you now?"_

_In reply, Mrs. Davis heard a few short laughs; she couldn't but feel that the laughs were without humor. _

"_I think Abby will be the one to decide that," she replied. "Sometimes that girl can be as stubborn as her hair is fiery."_

"_Yes, I've seen that she can be very headstrong on occasions, but she was always the most exemplary student…I know that these sort of things can deeply affect a child, I honestly hope that she will be okay."_

"_I hope we all will be."_

"_I'm sure that Abby is has woken up by now. You could talk to her on the school phone if you'd like."_

"_No, I'll call her on her cell phone," denied Cheryl._

"_Are you sure she'll answer or even that her phone will be on?"_

"_It will be," she assured. "She'll know I will call."_

"_Of course," Mrs. Davis responded and after they said their goodbyes, the principal hung up her phone._

_If Cheryl had seen her, she would have again been reminded of a bird; for the way Mrs. Davis tapped her fingers worriedly on the table, sounded awfully like a woodpecker against a tree._

* * *

><p><strong>Abby<strong>

I looked down on my phone as it buzzed.

_Zach_, it said.

My fingers drifted over the top of the cellular device.

I should open it. I should. I mean, he was sort-of, kind-of my boyfriend, and you're supposed to answer your boyfriend's texts. But, truth be told, I had sort of forgotten about him.

Not it a mean way, where you purposefully forget someone to make them feel lesser than what they are.

Nor in a careless way, where you just forget them because it wasn't your top priority to remember.

I just forgot.

I'll blame it on life, if you want me to. Perhaps his place in my life? He wasn't here for one thing. Nor had he ever been there. Not really.

I'm not about to go on and on, saying cliché things on how there was no spark or he didn't make me feel a certain because to tell you the truth, what did I know about what spark should be there or how I should feel? For all I know, I could want too much of a spark and end up burning something down or too less of a spark and freeze. Or the feeling could make me sick or just be downright bad for me. How was I supposed to know?

Of course, there was that sort of gut feeling, which seemed for the most part reliable. It was telling me something, though it comes over in my mind like a foreign language. One I haven't taken classes on.

At least, if I did, I would be getting a failing grade on it.

There was something that made me want to hold on to Zach. Yet, whatever that fixation was, I don't think it came from the hollow muscular organ that pumped blood through me; in other words, my heart. It was something else. I think it came from the region in my brain that doesn't like change. Doesn't want to accept it.

But like Sam put it so simply earlier: things change.

I was here in Ohio and I've changed. I guess I just wanted a part of New York to stay with me.

It was sort of cruel of me really.

The truth that even when I'm thinking of Zach, my thoughts will occasionally stray to Sam, was an even harsher reality because you're not supposed to think of someone else like that. That's just something that you're not supposed to do. However, here I was doing it, and I felt so stupid because I was playing that cliché girl. More so, I had called us "Great friends" mostly as reassurance to myself that that's what we are. It was too much of a cliché.

You know, the typical situation when a girl is caught between two guys: a boyfriend and a best friend, and doesn't know who to possibly choose. All the while any spectator is just yelling at the girl to choose what is right in front of her; the obvious choice. I don't know what that is though.

I never thought that this was going to be me.

So I'm not going to let it be.

I'm not going to "follow my heart" like they do in those romanticized stories.

I'm going to be smart. Heck, I'm a tutor; I'm supposed to be smart aren't I?

I'm going to force myself to remember.

* * *

><p>We were all a buzz with excitement when Glee club started, so harshly different than yesterday, that it was blatantly noticeable. It all started when Kurt announced while almost in tears that his dad was getting better. Congratulations were exclaimed and the whole mood of the group seemed to lift, I among them.<p>

What happened for Kurt might not have happened for me, but I don't think that I pitied myself for that anymore. At least, I honestly tried not to. I was glad that it didn't have to happen to Kurt. Additionally, I was glad that no one noticed my extra wide smile at the good news. Everybody would just assume I was happy for him because I was truly. Of course, no one knew that with the news brought this strange feeling of elation and for a moment, I was me again. Smiling, happy me. I honestly wouldn't have cared if Santana made more remarks about my hair color, I was so happy I was untouchable.

That was right when Quinn tapped me on the shoulder to get my attention.

"Abby, I've been meaning to talk to you," she said and I turned in my chair to face her.

"About what?"

"Religion," Quinn explained and my eyes widened. "I know you're not very religious, but seeing Kurt, and just this week in general, has made me understand more about why you don't believe and for that matter, why a lot of people don't… But if you do ever want to try to believe, you're welcome at my church. I'm not trying to covert you or anything, but what you said about being alone, well when you do have God in your life, you're never alone. Last year and even the start of this year has really made me believe this, so if you ever want to…well I guess the door is open."

"Thanks," I said nodding my head for some strange reason and swallowing when the words struggled to come out. "That's really nice."

I don't think the reason why it was so hard to articulate my thanks was because I wasn't thankful. More so, that I was being overwhelmed. It was like I was on a sugar high. All these good things, good people doing good things, and I was on a rush. I was elated; I was flying up in the clouds. And I think I was worried that I'd begin to fall down again.

Quinn smiled in response.

"Mr. Schue, if I may," Kurt began as Glee club started and Mr. Schue entered the room. "Now, you all know that I don't believe in God…but I do believe in us. Through this week and ever since Glee club began, all of you have given me something to believe in, and I think I found a song that fits this perfectly."

He started handing out sheet music, and everybody seemed to look and the music and seemed to come to an agreement. It sort of was the perfect song for this situation, and even if I didn't like perfect things, I believed that some things, like Glee club for example, were something better than perfect. And I could deal with that.

"_If God had a name, what would it be? And would you call it to his face, if you were faced with him in all his glory. What would you ask if you had just one question?" _Tina began singing, her voice resounding through the auditorium that we had moved to after Kurt's announcement.

Then Finn began singing, with Rachel joining in, _"And yeah, yeah God is great yeah, yeah God is good."_

"_Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah! What if God was one of us?Just a slob like one of us. Just a stranger on the bus. Trying to make his way home." _Soon we were all singing together.

"_If God had a face what would it look like? And would you want to see? If seeing meant that you would have to believe. In things like heaven and in Jesus and the saints and all the prophets,"_ Kurt began singing, and slowly my voice joined his. While singing, our eyes locked briefly, and I knew that commonality between was still there. We would never be true believers in God, but we were believers in something.

_And yeah yeah god is great yeah yeah god is good  
>yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah<em>

_What if God was one of us  
>Just a slob like one of us<br>Just a stranger on the bus  
>Trying to make his way home<br>He's trying to make his way home  
>Back up to heaven all alone<br>Nobody calling on the phone  
>Except for the pope maybe in Rome<em>

_And yeah yeah God is great yeah yeah God is good  
>yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah<em>

_What if god was one of us  
>Just a slob like one of us<br>Just a stranger on the bus  
>Trying to make his way home<br>Just trying to make his way home  
>Like a holy rolling stone<br>Back up to heaven all alone  
>Just trying to make his way home<br>Nobody calling on the phone  
>Except for the pope maybe in Rome<em>

* * *

><p>The next day went by like a blur. It's possible that this was because my issues with religion and with beliefs were done. They had all been organized neatly, packed away into the storage unit that was my mind. There was something freeing about not having such a question to worry about. Well, at least, not as many questions as before because there was still many more questions. Actually, there was one that blaringly important.<p>

My feelings.

I always hated talking about my feelings. That was one of the major reasons why I hadn't wanted to get sessions with Ms. Pillsbury. I hated clichés and I couldn't help but feel like that whenever a girl talked about them, she referenced something that is well, a cliché. So here's my try at explaining my feelings without being cliché:

I'm afraid to move on. In that aspect, I could be seen as the Cowardly Lion. Too scared to get what he wants, and what he wants is to not be scared, the Lion can be a conundrum. But even I cannot compare myself to the beast because at least he had the guts to move down on the yellow brick road, while I don't think I've even made it to Munchkinland yet.

I'm afraid to loose all connection to my past. Zach is a tie to New York, but lately I've felt like whoever tied us together, did a poor job and now where desperately trying to reattach. But do I even want to?

Lastly, I'm afraid to look to something new. Heck, I'm the Wicked Witch of the West in this aspect because I'm so stuck on New York, like she was so stuck on those ruby slippers, that I probably won't even see the water before it hits me and I start to melt.

Cliché enough for you?

I certainly hope not.

There was no denying though, that after school when I was putting my books away in my locker and I looked down at the pen Sam gave me, there was something. Maybe not a flutter from butterflies in my stomach, or the obsessive pounding of my heart, but there was something all the same. Why couldn't I just accept that something? Why did I want to get melted?

Obviously, I've been watching too much Wizard of Oz, but it being the favorite and one of the three movies Cheryl owned, my choices were limited on movie night.

I should really stick to books.

It was just then that a familiar figure reminded me that I was not stuck in some mythical land. No, this was life. It was real, and sadly, it was becoming a cliché.

"Hey, how's it going Red?" Sam asked cheekily, coming up next to me.

"Oh not you too," I groaned.

"What?"

"Apparently, people can't accept that I have red hair. Well, big deal! It's official I'm a carrot-top, you people just have to deal with it!"

"Whoa, relax," Sam eased. "Your hair's just unique, and yeah really red. At least, you don't have my hair. Some people think I dye it."

"Do you?"

"No! But that's not the point," he explained, defiantly. "Anyway, I came here for a reason, so if you wouldn't mind, there's something I need to say."

"Be my guest."

He let out a breath, "Well, I was wondering," Sam began, "considering that we are both new to Lima, that means we both haven't been to Breadstix."

"Breadstix?" I questioned. "Isn't that the restaurant that everyone is raving about at this school?"

"Yeah," Sam said. "At least, that's what I've heard."

"I've heard that's it a place to take your dates."

He blanched at that. "I didn't think you had to," he said quickly, maybe a little too quickly. "I mean, you can, but I thought we could go as friends. Unless, you wanted to go on a date…"

"Um, Sam, I-I can't," I said, all the while, a voice in my head was screaming _Don't do it! Don't do it!_ "I…I have a boyfriend."

"Oh, ohhhh I didn't realize," Something changed in his eyes, but I couldn't tell what. "Well…we can still go as friends."

"I-I…" There was the voice again, screaming at me to say yes, to go with him. But I don't believe in God, why would I believe in some nagging voice in my head? "I'm sorry, I can't. I have to get home."

"Oh…okay..." he said awkwardly. "Well, I guess…I'll see you on Monday."

"Yeah, I'll see you."

He walked away, almost stopping once to turn back to face me, but he kept going instead. Again I felt that sensation from earlier. Where I want to cry, where, heck, it'd be normal to cry, but I can't. I'm frozen.

Maybe that's how the Wicked Witch of the West and I differ.

She melts.

I freeze.

I couldn't help but feel like this was a cliché moment where boy likes girl, girl likes boy, girl has boyfriend. And the girl is so stuck, so frozen that she refuses to move on.

Where was a tornado to take you away when you needed one?

Considering that I knew one wasn't going to come anytime soon, I decided to walk down the halls. It was lie what I told Sam about needing to get home right away. I was just too worried, too focused on those ruby slippers that I wasn't prepared for the shocking feeling of the water. Besides, I had gotten good at lying, hadn't I?

Somehow, I meandered so far through the lifeless hallways that I made it to the choir room. Mr. Schue wasn't there, and for that I was thankful. I didn't want him to see me like this. I didn't want anyone to see me like this.

It wasn't until I reached the choir room and sat down in one of the chairs that I realized I was finally melting.

I guess, what it was really called was crying.

Only moments seemed to pass before I heard footsteps and looked up to see Kurt at the doorway.

"My cardigan has to be in here…" He began to search the room before realizing that he wasn't alone.

"Abby?" he questioned. "What are you doing in here?" He proceeded to enter the almost vacant choir room. Then moving towards me and seeing my tears, his expression instantly turned into a worried look. "Are you crying?"

I shook my head, but that just freed more tears, and as they cascaded down my cheek, I couldn't help but feel reminded that I was crying. Not melting, crying. And because I hated crying, I told myself to stop crying, but like always, I continued to cry, almost crying more.

"Oh, you really are," Kurt said, not needing an answer from me besides the most apparent one: my tears. "Why are you crying? Is it because of my dad because he's okay now, you know. The doctors said he will be fine. So there's no reason to tear up."

"No," I insisted. "It's not that…I mean, it is. To tell you the truth, it nearly two me apart to see you go through that. I know it's hard, and that's why I'm crying Kurt…I've been in your position before." After telling a lie to Sam, to Ms. Pillsbury, to myself, I guess it was nice to start telling the truth.

"I know what it's like to fear for your parent's life…t-to loose a parent."

"What are you talking about Abby?" Kurt was looking at me curiously and I know he was going to ask, and I knew that I had to tell him because I needed to tell someone and right now, he was the only one that made sense to tell.

But could I?

"I-I um…It's nothing."

"It's not nothing."

"Okay," I relented, "maybe it's not nothing…But it's my life."

"Abby, I'm getting confused, what are you talking about? Loosing a parent?"

"Parents," I corrected, quietly, almost without realizing it. I didn't want to look up at his face. I didn't want to see the pity. "Maybe, I should start from the beginning."

I swallowed again. Thoughts continued to race through my mind. Was I really going to do this? Admit it? Then, the questions changed.

Why did it seem like such a colossal thing to say? Why was it so hard to admit?

Why was I such a fool that I worried about forgetting so much that I had to force myself to remember?

"There was an accident," I finally said. "A plane crash. Not even a year ago. My parents, they were on that plane…" I didn't know if I could continue. I was convinced that I couldn't. Besides, I've said enough haven't I? Right there is a lot to admit, isn't it? But there was something inside me, driving me to just say all of it. Get it over in one quick statement, like ripping of a bandage. "They died." I still couldn't look up. "I really shouldn't be crying. I just cried in front of Quinn. I promised myself I wouldn't do that anymore."

Kurt took a moment before he spoke, but when he did, I almost wasn't expecting it.

"Okay, so let me get this straight Abby. You've been keeping this a secret? Is that why you're always so quiet in Glee club? Wait, but why were you worried about this getting out?"

"I never said my reasons for doing so were valid," I muttered. "To tell you the truth, I don't exactly know why."

"Well, you must have some reason, as long as you're okay-"

"But that's the thing, I'm not okay!" I exclaimed. "I feel horrible. I'm a keeping a secret that's tearing me in two. And what's worse about this secret is that it's causing so much hurt to my right now life…I'm dating a guy that I talk to maybe once a week, and for what reason? Because I want that little spec of familiarity? Or is it because I'm using him, Zach, as my last connection to New York? I know it's not solely this because I do have feelings for him. I mean, I like the guy, I do, I wouldn't have gone out with him in the first place if I hadn't, but…he's in New York, he's someone else, and the girl he likes is not who I am anymore…He doesn't even know that I changed because really, when you only talk to the guy via text message, it's very easy to sound perky and happy…To sound like your old self…but that's not me anymore," I explained, stressing this with hand gestures that I always seem to use when I talk.

"I've changed, and now there's another guy here, who I think I'm starting to like." My lips almost unconsciously lifted into a tiny smile at this, only to be quickly replaced by a look of anguish and determination. "But I can't try a relationship with him because of Zach, and I can't let go of Zach because of New York because of my parents. _Because I'm not ready to accept that change_. It's so bittersweet because I want to accept what has happened, I want to heal and be whole again, but then there's the other part of me that fears what will happen if I allow myself to get hurt. And then what if I allow myself to fall in love? Not even now, in high school, but later on in life? How could I ever get over the heartbreak of loosing someone else? How is that even possible? I'm so lucky because I have the Glee club now, and track, and…even this new guy, but I can't let myself open up. I can't."

"I wanted to pity myself, but now I see that I shouldn't that I can't. It's my fault. I've become a walking cliché, and it's my fault." Finally, I was done. The words that had come spewing out of my mouth had finally stopped. "Please Kurt, you have to promise not to tell anyone," I begged. "I don't want to be different. I don't want to be pitied. I just want be normal. And I realize that normalcy will be hard to achieve, but I desperately want it, and to get it, no one can know."

"Okay…okay," he soothed, his words coming out slowly. "I'll keep your secret, not like I haven't kept bigger ones before."

"Thanks," I said shakily, smiling just the barest hint of a grin.

Finally, I looked up at him, expecting that pity in his eyes.

But it wasn't there. Something else was. Empathy? Plain sadness?

I didn't know, but to tell you the truth, I was fine with not knowing.

If you never knew something, then you don't have to **_remember._**

* * *

><p><em>As if to answer my question, my phone rang a moment later.<em>

_I knew who it was. A part of me somewhere just knew._

_It was my aunt._

_She was my only aunt really, considering I didn't know my dad's side of the family too well. She was my mom's sister._

_Was._

"_Hello?" I asked, and even though I knew exactly who it was, why she was calling, and what she would say next, I still phrased it as a question._

"_Hello, Abby?" she voiced. "H-how…" I could hear her swallow on the other end of the line before speaking again. "How are you?"_

"_I'm great, you know, it's everyday that I become an orphan." My voice was dry and harsh, and I honestly felt bad acting like this to my aunt, but that didn't seem to stop me._

"_Abby." Her voice was terse, dry too, but not overly harsh. "I know how you must be feeling. You must be shocked and sad, and I'm just trying to tell you that I'm here for you."_

"_That's great because that's exactly what I need: more people knowing my pain and feeling for me," I explained. Inside I was wondering when I became so sarcastic. "But you know what I really want to know? Not about how my pain must be so darn terrible, I just want to know where I am going next…" I knew I couldn't keep up this façade for much longer, but to tell you the truth? I think I was doing it so I wouldn't break down in front of my aunt. She was my **only** real aunt. Kind of like my only family, not counting brother, but currently he was…unreachable. "Just tell me, am I leaving New York?"_

_I heard her suck in a breath before answering. _

"_Yes, yes Abby you're leaving New York."_

"_Great." Now I just sounded shaky._

"_You're coming to live with me in Ohio," she explained. "You'll spend the rest of your year in New York, and then come here to live with me."_

"_And I have no say in the matter?"_

"_Abby...Where else do you want to go?" The question broke down my last barrier._

"_Where in Ohio?" I replied, refusing to answer her question._

"_Lima. Lima, Ohio."_

* * *

><p><strong>So first off, please don't get mad at me because I didn't have Abby go with Sam to Breadstix! Even though I hated writing it out, I had to for the purpose of the story. And the same goes with Zach. I know I haven't included anything about him really since chapter seven, so to have him suddenly spring up again may seem a little bit of suprise, but I sort of did that purposefully.<strong>_  
><em>

**Another thing, I'm trying to decide if this story should be rated K+ or T. Obviously, death is mentioned, even shown in the first chapter. And it includes the usual Glee stuff. So does that make it T? I've always been terrible with deciphering between the various ratings, so what do you as a reader think?**

**Finally, I have been thinking of changing the summary of this story. I just don't think the summary was adequate. I'm thinking it may something along the lines of this:**

"He was my best friend. Due to him and Glee club, I have been able to start moving on from my past. Yet, I still haven't been able to admit my secret. With the possibility of love blooming, I may have to." SamxOC Season 2

**I don't know...Opinions? Review please!**


	17. Chapter 17 Lit Books

**Chapter 17 Lit Books**

In literature, there are several different kinds of characters.

There are your dynamic characters, which change throughout a story. Or there are static characters that basically stay the same. Then there's your stock characters, your protagonist, your antagonist etc.

And then there are your flat and round characters.

_**flat character **noun_

_1. an easily recognized character type in fiction who may not be fully delineated but is useful in carrying out some narrative purpose of the author._

_2. a two-dimensional or stereotypical character_

Basically, a character that supports a main character. Almost like an understory for an actor. These characters generally don't have a whole lot of depth to them. They're simple, not very original. But they do serve a purpose.

Now, a round character is something very different. They're fully developed, fully "rounded" one could say.

In life, you'll meet plenty of these kinds of characters. Heck, we meet "flat characters" all the time. They could be the milkman or the lunch lady or just someone you see down the street. Overall, characters that are there, but you don't need to know much about. That's not to say that these characters, these people, might be completely rounded to another person. To even themselves. But to you, at the moment, they are there to just bring you some milk or give you your food. They're just a flat character.

Similar to how we meet plenty of flat characters, we'll meet plenty of round ones too.

The world is full of diverse personas, no matter the type, but we all are _a_ character in our own story and others for that matter. We can be a protagonist, but we can also be an antagonist, without even realizing it. After all, the protagonist isn't always the good guy, and the antagonist isn't always the bad guy. We just have different aims.

Different parts in the story.

I know I'm still trying to figure out my own place, but heck, I'm a dynamic character too so I'm going to change. I might never find my place in the story.

But I'm okay with that. I can adjust…Most of the time.

However, I, just like a whole boat load of people, have difficulty adapting.

Sam certainly was.

He was mad at his injury, and I don't blame him. If I got injured and was unable to run in cross country or track, well I'd be fuming with anger. When you have a passion for something, and then you can't do what you want to do anymore…it's not fun.

But who says that life is fun all of the time?

"So are you going to sit around watching the footballers practice? Or are you actually going to do something with your time instead of pouting?" I asked Sam, who was sitting on the bleachers next to the football field sullenly watching the team. After noticing him during track practice, I had come over to talk to him. I didn't realize his grumpy mood.

"I'm not pouting," he denied vehemently, refusing to look me in the eyes.

I raised an eyebrow at him and gestured to the way he was sitting, slumped down with his head in his hands dejectedly, "Really?" I questioned. "I do have eyes you know."

"Look," he began, "you don't know what it's like. I mean, I was starting out good at this school! Being the football quarterback has its perks, and now that's been ripped away from me because of my shoulder injury."

"And that's sucks," I finished. "But, even though I don't really have in right to say this, I don't honestly think this is the best use of your time until your back into shape. You need to stop taunting yourself watching them practice, watching _Finn_ be QB…"

"That's not even the worst part," he interjected. "Yes, I love football, but one of the main aspects of the game that I love is the _team_. I mean, I get that the teams pretty divided now because of the Glee club members and the guys who are against that, but it's still a team. And now, I'm not really a part of it. And to quote you 'it sucks'."

"You know," I started, "even if you _really _want to be on a team, there's always Glee club. We did sing a pretty nice duet if I do say so myself. All you have to do is talk to Mr. Schue and I'm sure he'll let you in."

He sighed, pausing for a moment before coming to a decision, "Fine."

"Yay!" I jumped and clapped like a girl, before realizing that I just shrieked and clapped like a total girl. Even Sam was looking at with an amused expression on his face. "That never happened," I warned.

"Sure," he said, elongating the word.

I glared, "Let's just go talk to Mr. Schue."

"Whatever you say," he smirked, but followed me as I walked back into the building.

As I walked, I wondered briefly if this was just my role. Someone who just supported another, maybe encouraged another.

Am I just a flat character?

I honestly tried to dismiss the thought.

* * *

><p>"Alright, let's gather around," Mr. Schue called as the bell rang. Prior to Glee club beginning, he, Sam, and I had discussed Sam's joining the club and Mr. Schue had gone along with it happily. Though, he didn't seem so happy at the present moment.<p>

As we all began to stop what we were previously doing and turned our attention to him, Mr. Schue continued, "Sorry, I'm late guys, I was with Principal Figgins. Bad news guys, Puckerman is in Juvie."

"It really was just a matter of time," Tina reasoned.

Quinn, who looked flabbergasted, quickly asked, "What did he _do_?"

"He drove his mom's Volvo through the front of a convenience store and drove off with the ATM," Mr. Schue answered.

Instantly, the whole Glee club was either shocked or laughing, myself included, causing me to utter a mere "Wow."

"And when is he getting out?" Rachel questioned.

"Unknown."

Brittany continued to laugh, "He's got to be the dumbest person on this planet and that's coming from me."

"Guys," Mr. Schue warned, "let's have some sympathy."

"For a guy who put his needs before the team's?" Finn questioned. "We need his _voice_ and his bad boy stage presence!"

"We can't look at this as a crisis," Mr. Schue insisted. "It's an opportunity."

"For what?" Quinn questioned. "Further embarrassment and humiliation?"

"For welcoming our new member Sam Evans!" Mr. Schue announced. "There he is!"

Sam began jogging into the choir room with varying array of books, that I recognized from us studying, and binder in hand.

"How's it going?" Sam asked. I think he was trying to say it coolly, but it didn't exactly come off that way. "Hey, everybody I'm Sam, Sam I Am, and I don't like Green Eggs in Ham."

That caused me to wince. Referencing your name to a Dr. Seuss book is probably not the best introduction…

"Oh wow, he has no game," Santana conceded, causing Sam to look even more uncomfortable and also created an awkward silence.

This caused me to step up (figuratively) and try to make things a little less awkward, "Well, at least Sam joined Glee club. If he has 'no game'," I glared at Santana quickly, "then at least he has guts. And we all know that that's a helpful addition to Glee club."

Some of the Glee club members nodded briefly in agreement and Sam looked like a little less awkward standing in front of the Glee club, so my comment must have helped a little.

"His joining his also good news for you, Abby," Tina pointed out, and I looked briefly confused before she continued, "You're no longer the new kid."

I smiled, having almost forgot about that advantage of Sam joining the club, "Finally, you guys don't get to hold being the newest one here over me anymore!"

"Yeah, and none of us, besides Finn of course, even know Mr. Sam I Am, so we're on common ground then too."

"Actually," Mr. Schue announced, "both of our new members are acquainted with each other already."

"Really?" Santana asked. "How does Strawberry Shortcake over there know Troutymouth?"

I glared at her for both remarks, before answering, "We-"

"-run track together," Sam interrupted, and I sent him a curious look. "Obviously, not anymore because of my arm, but we used to."

"Yeah," I agreed, my eyebrows arched in confusion. "We're running partners."

Cue second awkward silence.

This time Finn stood up (literally) and walked over to shake Sam's hand, "Okay this is going to be great. You're not going to regret joining, Sam."

Finn then directed Sam to a place to sit and before he sat down Sam looked up at me briefly and I tried to send him a reassuring smile, though I've never been one for that kind of thing.

"Alright, question for the group," Mr. Schue began, "what's a duet?"

Rachel raised her hand, but it was Brittany who answered, "A blanket."

Before sending her a curious glance, Mr. Schue continued, "A duet is when two voices join to become one. Great duets are like a great marriage. Singers compliment each other; push each other to be better…"

I didn't catch the rest of what Mr. Schue said because Kurt began quietly talking to Mercedes, and I who was sitting in the back row with them began to listen in too. What I did catch though, was when Sam glanced over at me at the mention of a duet. I certainly hoped he didn't catch my blush at the look, but that was before my attention was caught by what Kurt was saying.

"Psst," he called Mercedes and I just happened to hear too. "He's on team gay; no straight boy dyes his hair to look like," then he referenced something I couldn't catch, "Circuit 93."

"Well, your crazy, Circuit 2010," Mercedes replied.

"So that's what a duet is all about," Mr. Schue finished, causing me to shake my head quickly and turn back to him. "So this week I want you guys to pair up and sing a duet. _And _since you guys all seemed to like our Defying Gravity Diva-Off," I just pretended to know what that was, "I'm making this a competition."

"What's the winner get?" Mike asked.

"Dinner for two, on me…" Dramatic pause. "At Breadstix."

Everyone suddenly erupted into happy exclamations at the thought of the restaurant.

"Who are you going to sing with Kurt?" Mercedes asked.

A sense of dread and…jealous? filled me at the knowledge of who Kurt was thinking about picking.

And from what I knew of Sam, I doubt that he would decline Kurt's request for a duet; he was too…nice.

So I turned to Quinn, who was sitting below me, "We should do a duet together."

"Okay…" she began, looking at me curiously before beginning to nod her head in agreement. "We would probably be a good match; at least from what I'd heard you've sung…Yeah, that sounds good to me."

I smiled, "Good."

I was happy about more than just having her as my partner, I was also glad that I had the guts to ask because I was usually pretty timid when it came to things like that I.

Not to mention, I was glad because now I wouldn't be the one without a partner.

I guess one part of not being different, is not being alone.

* * *

><p>"Hey, Abby!" Sam called after Glee club ended. "Wait up, there's something I need to ask you."<p>

"Huh?" I questioned, having been half-way oblivious to Sam's comment because I was reading a poster outside the choir room, or what remained of it. It had been a welcome back to Glee club poster one of the members put up, but it had gotten vandalized and now said Welcome Back Glee-atches. Now exactly pleasant. Anyway, I turned my attention away from the poster to face Sam's oncoming figure.

"Oh Sam that reminds me, I needed to ask you something too," I exclaimed, then in a quieter voice as he came closer.

"You go first," he said and I nodded before asking, "Why did you lie and tell them that we run track together?"

Sam widened his eyes before trying to avoid the query, "Well, it wasn't a complete lie; we do run a lot for our separate sports and cross paths more than a few times."

"Yeah, but that's not answering my question," I prodded, arching my eyebrows speculatively.

"Okay fine," he relented as he shoved his hands in his pockets nervously. "To tell you the truth, I didn't want them to know that I'm getting tutored. I know it's nothing to be ashamed of. I have dyslexia and I just need a little extra help, but I don't want to be labeled as the "dumb one" just because of that."

"Ohhhh Sam, I-I didn't even realize," I explained quickly. "But you don't have to be worried about that; everyone in the club generally understands that we all have things that we're not the best at. Besides, you're definitely not going to be labeled as "dumb"; I don't think you realize it, but you're smarter than you think."

"How so?" he asked dryly with a speculatively raised eyebrow, looking like he didn't believe me.

"You're the only guy I know who can rattle off whole quotes in the right context, nonetheless," I smiled. "Besides, I think getting tutoring is a great step. You need help, and you're not afraid to get it. That's got to be pretty brave, _and_ smart."

He stared at me for a moment, and I quickly averted my eyes, blushing as I realized what all I had said. It wasn't the typical thing people (teenagers no less!) say to their friends, especially friends of the opposite sex.

Awkward much?

However, Sam didn't seem to take it in that way, instead he smiled at me.

"Oh, so now I'm brave and smart?" he said with a wry grin. "What's next my hair? Or you like my eyes don't you?" He continued to tease me.

I sent him an annoyed look, blushing the slightest, "Can't you just take a compliment?"

He grinned at me mischievously before replying shortly, "No."

"Figures."

He laughed, his features softening into peaceful creases.

"But really Abby…thanks. It's nice to know that someone at least thinks I'm smart."

"I'm sure I'm not the only one."

"Eh," he shrugged his shoulders. "At least the only one with flaming red hair."

"Seriously?" I questioned. "The hair again?"

"What?"

"Fine then, now I'm going to tease you, Goldilocks."

"Okay, okay. Truce," he said. "No more hair jokes from either of us. Deal?"

"Deal," I replied, smiling. "And I'll also promise not to tell anyone about tutoring you. I figure, we all have our secrets now and then, who I am to force you to tell yours?"

"Thanks."

"But Sam? You shouldn't be ashamed of that. You're trying hard to get better grades, and that's the point. When you're ready, I'm sure no one will care, or think of you differently, if they know you're getting tutored."

"I'll think about it," he promised.

I smiled at him, before groaning, "Oh, great. I forgot that I have literature next period, I have to get my lit book."

"Okay," he said as I said a quick bye to him already rushing away, not even hearing really what he said at the end. "But wait Abby I-"

However, his voice was washed away in the oncoming stampede of students as the bell rang and they all poured out. Whatever the question, I figured he could ask me later, so I shrugged my shoulders and continued quickly on to my locker, meanwhile trying not to get trampled my the rush of students.

Finally I reached my locker and I smiled in relief that I hadn't gotten trampled by the many students.

Only as I quickly grabbed the lit book and noticed that it was one of the few occupants in my locker, and also noticing the lack of pictures, that I realized I was telling Sam not to keep a secret when here I was keeping an even bigger one.

Wow, I was such a hypocrite.

* * *

><p><strong>Sam<strong>

"But Sam? You shouldn't be ashamed of that. You're trying hard to get better grades, and that's the point. When you're ready, I'm sure no one will care, or think of you differently, if they know you're getting tutored," Abby insisted after Glee club.

"I'll think about it," I promised before Abby quickly rushed off saying something about needing a lit book for her next class.

That's when I realized I had almost forgotten the reason I had come to talk to her.

So I quickly called after her, "But wait Abby-"

Yet, it was too late; she was already gone down the crowded halls.

I sighed, "I was going to ask you if you wanted to duet with me."

Deciding I'd her later, I walked away, all the while shaking my head.

* * *

><p><strong>Abby<strong>

"So you're pretty good friends with Sam right?" Kurt asked me as he walked up beside in the lunch line.

"Yeah, I guess," I shrugged my shoulders as I started putting food on my tray. I had made the mistake that day of forgetting my lunch, so now I was eating nasty cafeteria food for lunch. Yay!

I hope you can see my sarcasm.

"Why do you ask?"

"Oh, well, it's sort of a personal question, but…Is Sam gay?"

"What?" I sputtered. The lunch lady on the other side looked at me with a wary expression. "Cheese please." I told the lady my kind of pizza I wanted and she put the pizza on my plate. On the good side, it was pizza for lunch, but on the bad side, the pizza looked about as stale as cardboard, with cheese that frankly, didn't look like it had any dairy in it whatsoever.

Still, I didn't focus on the pizza too much as I turned to look at Kurt.

"Wait, you think Sam's gay?" I asked, not willing to tell him that I had already eavesdropped on his conversation with Mercedes about this same topic.

"Well, yeah," Kurt replied, telling his own order to the lunch lady quickly and receiving an equally frightening piece of cheesy ugliness. "I mean, have you seen his hair? Definitely from the bottle and frankly Santana was right. He has little to no game. It's not really that farfetched of a thought to think that he might be homosexual is it?"

The two of sat down at a table and began eating (or at least tried to) our pizza.

I laughed between bites. "Kurt, he's not gay."

"Oh, and do you have proof of that fact?" he questioned, looking at me suggestively.

"No…wait what do you mean?"

"Well, have you and him been doing more than just running?"

"What! No," I denied fervently. "I already told you I had a boyfriend."

"Well, that doesn't stop a lot of people."

"It does for me."

"Fine," he relented. "So that still means he could be gay. I mean, he hasn't made a move on you obviously and you too sound like your pretty close."

"We're not," I denied, though I couldn't tell if it was a lie or not. "Just running partners, but…I still don't think he's gay."

"Well, we're just going to have to find out won't we?" he asked, and I looked at him curiously. "I'll ask him to be my duet partner. Problem solved! If he says yes, I'll have a better chance at determining his sexual preferences."

I sighed, "I don't know if that's such a great idea."

"Why not?" Kurt asked. "Unless _you_ wanted to sing a duet with him."

"What? No! I…I mean, if he asked me to," I began. "But the duet would only be one between friends! And besides, I've already asked Quinn to duet with me."

"Then you won't mind if I ask him, do you?"

"No," I lied. "Not at all."

"Good, then I will get right on that." Kurt instantly got up from his seat and sped away with a determined gait.

"Wait! You didn't even finish your pizza!" I exclaimed. I don't think he heard me, but who could blame him?

So then I was all alone, staring dejectedly at Kurt's partially empty tray and what was left on my own.

Why did I have such a glum mood all of a sudden?

I'll blame it on the pizza.

* * *

><p><strong>Sam<strong>

"Hey, I'm Kurt Hummel," said a boy I recognized from Glee club. "I just wanted to personally welcome you to the Glee club."

"Thanks," I replied awkwardly as I closed my locker.

I couldn't help but notice how the boy, Kurt I guess, continued to nod and smile like a little kid who knew already what he was getting for Christmas.

"Just tell me…" Kurt continued, and I again shook my head in confusion. Then he stepped forward, closer to me, "Look, maybe at your old school you could get away with the whole 'I just stayed in the sun all summer' excuse, but I have three gifts: my voice, my ability to spot trends in men's fashion, _and _my ability to know when it comes from the bottle."

He looked convincingly up at my hair and that's when I realized what he was insinuating.

"I don't dye my hair dude," I replied.

"Yes, you do," Kurt assured, "but it's just between friends. That's not natural."

"I'm gonna…go," I stated awkwardly again. "Because you're kind of freaking me out."

Then I started to walk away from him before Kurt stopped me.

"Wait! Maybe my instincts were a little off. Let me make it up to you. Team up with me for the duet competition," he suggested and I looked at him confusedly. "Look, unless you team up with Rachel, I'm your best shot at winning."

"Aren't duets supposed to be between a girl and a guy?" I asked, stating what I at least thought I knew about duets.

"Well, Gene Kelly and Donald O'Connor would protest," he insisted, then seeing my still confused expression continued, "Make Him Laugh?"

"Sorry."

"Singing in the Rain?" he questioned. "1952? Nothing? Okay, maybe you are straight."

That caught my attention, albeit confused, "What?"

"Nothing," he assured before starting to walk away. "Listen, rent it and then look up the menu at Breadstix online and call me because we are going to win this."

"Wait! Kurt," I called after him and he turned back for a moment. "Look, it's not that I don't want to be your partner, but I was already thinking about asking someone else."

"Who? Abby?"

"Yes," I confirmed before scrunching up my eyebrows in confusion. "Wait how'd you know?"

"Just a guess."

"Anyway," I still looked at him warily, "we are pretty good friends and our voices go well together."

"Wait, you've already sung a dude together?" he questioned, before shaking his head. "Never mind, Abby already has a partner: Quinn. So unless you want to be singing a duet alone, I'm probably your last option and your best chance at winning."

"Oh," I said, not realizing that. "Okay, then."

"So, we'll be partners?" Kurt questioned before starting to walk away again. "Trust me, this will work!"

I looked confusedly after him. For some reason, I didn't feel the confidence that Kurt seemed to have.

But then again, with my whole shoulder fiasco, I haven't felt it a lot lately.

* * *

><p><strong>Abby<strong>

"The weirdest thing just happened to me," Sam sighed as he sat down next to me n our usual seats at the library. I noticed that he had a confused look in his eyes. "Kurt asked me to duet with him, but then he kept on asking me about my hair…Does my look dyed to you?"

"W-what?" I asked, flabbergasted.

"You know, by looking at me, would you say that my hair looks like the color is from the bottle?" he said this in a hushed tone, like he was worried someone would hear.

"Well, I mean…sure, your hair has a bit of that…dyed look, but who am I to talk with the state of my hair? So overall, no I don't think that you dye it, unless you do, and then I might ask you what brand of hair dye you use."

He sent a pointed sideway glance at me, causing me to smile.

"Kidding!" I assured. "But I have a sneaking suspicion that you don't dye your hair…"

"I don't," he confirmed solidly.

"Okay then, anymore hair inquires?"

He shot me another pointed glance before sighing, "Let's just get back to homework."

"Oh, and now who's the goody-two-shoes!" I pointed out.

Again, he glared before returning to his assignment sullenly.

Finally, I relented when I realized one of the reasons why he was suddenly concerned.

"Sam, trust me, don't worry about the state of your hair. Honestly, I try not to with mine. Besides, I'm guessing that the reason you're stressing about your goldilocks is because of something else anyway. Does it, by chance, have anything with you just being nervous about Glee club?"

Silence.

"Anyway, _I _certainly was nervous, but now I'm coming into my own skin and I've found that I really like Glee club. It was unexpected but welcome. I'd say you just have to go for it."

"Nobody says you must laugh, but a sense of humor can help you overlook the unattractive, tolerate the unpleasant, cope with the unexpected, and smile through the day," Sam recounted finally looking up at me. "At least, that's an Ann Lander quote."

"Then maybe you should listen to Ann Lander," I stated pointedly, before returning to the work at hand. "Anyway, what are we working on today?"

"Literature homework," he answered. "We have to 'Determine the type of characters Henry, John, and Sally are from the short story'." He read the directions on the assignment aloud.

I then looked at the assignment myself.

It would be fairly easy to decide what kind of character the three from the short story were, but that was because I could read about these characters. I could see their flaws and their triumphs and see, essentially, who they are. But to try and decide what character_ I_ am, like I had tried earlier?

Well, that is much harder.

All I knew is that I don't want to be different.

But what kind of character does that make me?

* * *

><p><strong>Attention! <strong>

**I think I may be changing the summary to the what I had on the previous chapter! So head ups.**

**I think though, the rating will stay the same.**

**Also, I'm trying to think of a story cover because of FF's new Image Manager, and I have a few ideas, but I'm also open to any other ideas from you guys! **

**One more thing, I'm also open to a song for Quinn and Abby to duet, so suggestions are also welcome!**

**Anyway, please review and I'll send you some cyber brownies!...just kidding. Though reviews are appreciated! :)**


	18. Chapter 18 Of Symbols and Signs

**Chapter 18 Of Symbols and Signs**

I'm the kind of person that hates endings.

This is a common trait for a lot of people and a lot of characters, so I'm not alone in my abhorrence of a conclusion.

I'm the kind of person that doesn't cry at the most tragic scene of a book, where a beloved character dies or another tear-jerking event occurs. No, I'm the kind of person that cries at the end of the story, even if the ending is completely perfect with sunshine and rainbows, and a whole slew of smiling people. To tell you the truth, I'm _terrified_ of the end, simply because it is _the end. _It's the missing, the 'what comes next?', and the realization that it's over that really gets me. The thought, the simple idea of never again it being the same, is mind blowing and too labyrinthine a sentiment for me to even wrap my mind around. I love books, I love to read, but it's when I get to that last book in the series where you have to say goodbye to those characters, to that world, which in itself it terrifying. Now in a real world scale of things, I'm terrified about endings. Ending high school. Ending college. Ending being a child. All of it. I'm terrified of the future.

I'm the kind of person that worries like crazy before the ending. Any inclination of it coming to a close causes me to freak out. I want to tear my hair out and cry at the same time.

What's possibly the most frightening are those harbingers that it's coming to an end, when you begin to see it in your path: the beginning of the end.

Overall, there's always going to be a part of me that wants to hide in a corner, poised in fetal position, at any indicator that _something _is coming to the end.

Perhaps, that's why I'm so frightened right now.

"I told someone." I said this as I breathed out heavily, my back pressed against Ms. Pillsbury's door that I had just opened.

"Wait-what?" Ms. Pillsbury questioned looking confused.

Okay, maybe I should have actually let the session begin before confessing that, but I had to tell her. I don't know if the urgency to do so was more because of a faint sense of accomplished at having actually admitted that to someone, or because of the fear at the thought of my tight little web of secrets unraveling. It was a beginning of an end to my denial, and I was honestly frozen with fear at the realization of what I had admitted.

"I told someone," I repeated before clarifying, "About…m-my parents. About what happened. I told the truth."

"That's…well that's great Abby!" Ms. Pillsbury exclaimed. "Excellent progress."

"Really?" I asked, not looking convinced. "Because it doesn't feel like progress to me."

I didn't tell her that it felt like something else: a launch. It was as if I had boarded a rocket ship with all my secrets in tow, and the count off until my departure was about to start. And it might as well begin because it was ending, wasn't it?

"Of course its progress," Ms. Pillsbury assured. "_You_ told someone. _You_ overcame a fear. And now you have someone more to talk to. To help support you." She seemed to bounce in her seat as she exclaimed my accomplishment happily. "Who did you tell by the way?"

"Kurt," I answered, "but I really shouldn't have because I just gave him another burden to bear. After what happened with his dad though…It just reminded of me of w-what happened before you know? It was different of course, yet vaguely similar, and I just thought that maybe…maybe he would understand because that's what's he went through with his mom and the almost again with his dad. But that's exactly why I _shouldn't_ have told him! He doesn't need the extra stress because now I've made him promise not to tell anyone about it. And he won't…I feel like I can trust him for some strange reason. Like I said earlier, he knows what it's like." I shrugged my shoulders. "I just…I don't know what to do anymore. Yeah, I told someone the truth finally, and that's great, but what has that done but give me more to worry about? It just feels so much more _real_ and I don't know if that supposed to make me feel better or worse…I almost expected that once I finally came out and said it, everything was supposed to be better. Like it's supposed to be fixed. But it's not, and I'm more lost than ever."

She was silent for a moment.

"Abby, maybe the reason why it feels so more real, is because it is real. What happened, happened and as much as I would hate to say it…you can't change it," she said, using her most soft voice.

And she was right.

I couldn't change the past.

Yet, I can stop the beginning of the realization that it is real, and that it did happen.

After all, if there's never a beginning, there can't be an ending.

* * *

><p>I do know that sometimes endings could be good. Like (not to sound sappy) the end of a rainstorm, when you know a rainbow's going to sprout up next. Or when it's the end of a bad thing or just something that you wished never began. There's also the chance that the ending is the best part of the story. Whether it's the grand finale of a show or that last, tense moment of a sports game when it goes into overtime and it's down to that last second. In this case, the end is where the game is at its best and most interesting.<p>

And I'm not saying that endings are bad. They can be beneficial and positive. They could be that last little bit that makes the whole equation complete.

Still, I don't like conclusions, but that's just me. And who knows? I might as well be crazy.

"So do you have any ideas for a song?" I asked Quinn as we entered the choir room to practice our duet.

"Um, not really," she confessed.

"Neither have I."

Cue awkward silence.

"Well, a duet doesn't always have to be made for two people sing," Quinn suggested. "We could sing a song that we change into a duet."

"Sounds good," I replied. "What song are you thinking?"

Cue awkward silence number two.

"I haven't thought that far yet," she informed me.

"Neither have I."

Cue awkward silence number three.

"This isn't really going very well," I observed.

"Yeah, not really," Quinn concurred. "Maybe it's a sign that we are not meant to duet."

"From who?" I asked amusedly quirking my eyebrow. "The duet gods?"

"I was thinking more like it came from the Show Choir Rulers of the World."

"Oh really?" I laughed.

"Yes," she replied, an amused grin on her own lips.

"Well, how about we show up the Show Choir Rulers of the World and sing an _amazing_ duet."

"If only we had a song…" Quinn mused.

"Well," I began, "I might have just thought of one. You like Michael Buble right?"

"Of course," she stated, "with that velvety voice he's every girl's dreams."

I chuckled, "Okay."

Then I turned to the band guys and quickly told them what I was thinking of.

"_Birds flying high. You know how I feel. Sun in the sky. You know how I feel. Breeze driftin' on by. You know how I feel,"_ I began to sing, smiling as the song grew in intensity.

"_It's a new dawn. It's a new day. It's a new life," _Quinn joined in with me as we reached the chorus.

Then I sung solo, "_For me."  
><em>

"_And I'm feeling good." _Quinn took that line.

_"I'm feeling good." _We joined our voices together again. I could practically image the scene changing from the choir room to a flashy auditorium.

"Fish in the sea. You know how I feel. River running free. You know how I feel. Blossom on a tree. You know how I feel,"

Quinn soloed, moving to the center of our "stage."_  
><em>

"_It's a new dawn. It's a new day. It's a new life," _I joined in before soloing, _"For me."_

_"And I'm feeling good." _We sung this last line together continued on singing with this pattern throughout the song.

Dragonfly out in the sun you know what I mean, don't you know  
>Butterflies all havin' fun you know what I mean<br>Sleep in peace when day is done  
>That's what I mean<br>And this old world is a new world  
>And a bold world<br>For me

For me

Stars when you shine  
>You know how I feel<br>Scent of the pine  
>You know how I feel<br>Oh freedom is mine  
>And I know how I feel<br>It's a new dawn  
>It's a new day<br>It's a new life

It's a new dawn  
>It's a new day<br>It's a new life

It's a new dawn  
>It's a new day<br>It's a new life  
>It's a new life<br>For me

And I'm feeling good

I'm feeling good  
>I feel so good<br>I feel so good

The irony was that I did not feel good at all, and I haven't for a while.

But Quinn didn't know that. Actually, I had gotten so good at my poker-face lately that I would probably be described as "just peachy."

"That was surprisingly good," Quinn stated, smiling ever so simply. "We might actually have a chance at winning this thing."

"It offends me that you ever thought we wouldn't," I huffed jokingly.

"Yeah, well let's just say I haven't been that focused on Glee club lately, so I've been…less confident I guess with my singing ability."

"Why's that?" I asked.

"I've just been trying to put more of my attention on Cheerios," she confessed. "I have to keep alert because Santanna's probably going to try and sabotage me somehow."

"Really? She'd do that just because your head cheerleader now? Revenge seems kind of severe, just for that."

"Oh, you really are new to McKinley," Quinn laughed grimly. "You're still naïve."

"I am not naïve!" I insisted before sighing. "Okay, maybe I am, just a wee bit, but that's not necessarily bad is it?"

"No, but if you're going to survive at this school, trust me, you're going to need to become more cynical with people."

"Sounds like fun," I mused with fake humor and just a little bit of real horror.

Quinn laughed, "You'll be fine Abby, just don't steal anyone's boyfriend or date a person from an opposing Glee club."

"That happened last year?" I questioned.

"Well, everyone seems to steal each other boyfriend or girlfriend like it's a hobby and as for the latter, yeah with Berry and this guy from Vocal Adrenaline…It didn't end well."

"What happened?"

"Let's just say there were a lot of tears and eggs involved."

"Eggs?" I exclaimed before muttering. "Maybe I shouldn't have encouraged Sam to join."

"Sam? Oh yeah that's right, you know the new kid," Quinn remembered and then a smile curved onto her lips. "I was wondering, are you two...in a relationship? I mean, he is kind of cute for a guy with that large of a mouth."

"What! No!" I denied quickly. "Why does everyone always think that?" I muttered before proceeding to explain, "We're just tu-running partners. You know, to condition for each of our sports. Track for me, and football for Sam."

"You do track?" Quinn asked, thankfully dropping the topic of boys, and I nodded. "Well, not that that's great and all, but have you thought about trying out for Cheerios?"

"Oh no, trust me, cheerleading is not for me," I replied hurriedly. "I mean, even in a faraway world where I tried out, I probably wouldn't even get in."

I used this as my excuse because my real one wouldn't exactly make sense to her without telling her the truth about everything. And I wasn't about to do that.

"You know, I could put in a good word with your with Sue," Quinn suggested. "It might not do any good, but if you are just worried about now making the team, it might help."

"That's really nice of you to offer, but you don't have to," I explained. "I don't think Sue likes me anyway."

"Why?"

"Well, whenever she passes me in the hallway she calls something like 'soulless ginger' or 'red-haired orangutan'. She once even told me that my hair color was against school policy because its brightness distracts students from their work," I explained quietly. "I've consequently tried to avoid her."

Quinn looked amused, "At least she only offends your hair, you should have heard what all she said to some of the other members of Glee club, including me."

"Like what?"

The blonde titled her head in thought before replying, "Well…"

* * *

><p>After Quinn had regaled with me the various, crafty nick names Sue has come up with for our Glee club, it had been time for my Language Arts class, so I had hurriedly picked up my books and proceeded to class.<p>

I seated myself down in a desk in the front of the class, since it was the only desk open.

"Okay class, today we'll be continuing the reader's theater we started last week. If you have a part in the play please come up to the front of class and bring your lit books with you. If you didn't have a part, still remember to read along. And beware, I will be watching you slackers in the back of the class," our literature teacher, Mr. Bryant lectured.

Following his directions I pulled out my book and plunked it down on my desk, before opening to the correct page. Fortunately, I didn't have a part in the reader's theater. It's not that I have a fear of public speaking exactly; it's more that I don't like to be singled out. I don't like to be under the pressure of it all, like you have to make it perfect. And I know I don't like the struggle for perfection that comes with. So overall, I'm not public-speaking's biggest fan.

"Uh, Mr. Bryant?" one of the students, I think Mary was her name, asked our teacher. "Colleen, who plays Bobbie in the play, isn't here today. I think she's sick."

There were mumbled agreements from some of the students who must have the student in their other classes and noticed that she was missing.

"Okay them," Mr. Bryant stated, "I guess that's what I get for forgetting to take role call. Anyway, we'll need a fill in for Colleen. So is there anyone whose just reading along without a part that wants to fill in for her?" There was silence next and I could practically hear crickets. "Come on, you guys! Reader's theaters are fun! You don't have to memorize lines and it beats reading straight out of textbooks." When there was a continued silence from the room, he shook his head. "No one really? Okay, then, Abby thank you for volunteering."

My eyes snapped from my book to him in a millisecond.

"W-what?" I asked. "I didn't volunteer."

"Sure you didn't, but come on up here and bring your book," Mr. Bryant encouraged merrily. He was a little too perky for my tastes. Still, I realized there was no getting out of it, so I moved to the front of the room.

"Umm, who I am I playing again?" I questioned, earning a few snickers from the class.

"Bobbie," Mr. Bryant replied. "Don't worry, she doesn't do much. Just stand there and you'll be fine."

I nodded my head and did just that.

As the play began and I realized that I had next to know lines, I couldn't help but let my bored mind think about the irony of this all.

I hate symbolism.

* * *

><p><strong>Third<strong>

"I don't see the big deal. He emailed me like sixty mpgs of him sing and I thought it was Faith Hill," Sam replied as he walked up to his locker and unlocked it. "The kid's good."

"Look, it's not about how good Kurt is," Finn explained as he sat down on a bench "Being in Glee club, is like…it's like walking down the double yellows lines of a highway. If you get just a little off course, then you're going to get crushed."

"I have to be honest," Sam replied. "You're confusing my head here. I mean, do you remember when you said when you talked me into joining Glee club? I joined up because I'm new here and you said it'd make me popular. Yeah, I also did it because I like to sing and Abby even convinced me that the Glee club is worth it because of the whole team aspect and whatnot. But no one ever told me that it was going to get me killed.'

"Well, eventually you're going to get popular," Finn explained, "but until then, you got to lay low a little bit, and sing a duet with another dude is not laying low."

"I didn't realize you had a problem with gay dudes."

"Look, I don't have a problem with gay dudes, everyone else does," Finn insisted. "And we're living in their world, and in _their world_ you singing a duet with Kurt is a death sentence."

Sam sighed, "Well, I gave him my word and in my world that's that."

Then he locked his locker and walked out of the locker room, leaving Finn behind looking less than happy with this current predicament.

* * *

><p><strong>Abby<strong>

Now I don't know what it about today, but whether it was Quinn and I trying to figure out a duet to sing and having a rough time or my frustratingly ironic ordeal in literature class, it appears that someone out there is trying to send me a lot of signs. After last week, where I confronted my issues with God, I doubt it's him. But still, I swear someone was out there trying to show me some now obvious symbols, and I'm not just being paranoid.

It was not only those signs that have me wondering what's going on today, I also just lost my left shoe.

I don't know how it's possible to loose one shoe, and I know I probably sound crazy, but what happened was that I took my shoes off to change into my track clothes and then when I came back after practice was over, one shoe was gone. And I mean _one _shoe. I would understand two shoes, but one shoe? Now something is just not right about it. Additionally, I didn't know what kind of sign this could be. Unless someone was trying to say I have bad taste in foot apparel, I was lost.

So basically that's how I ended up hobbling through the hallway, with only one shoe on. I couldn't wear my track shoes because, for one thing, they very smelly and for another, if I took them home, I would no doubt forget them and then be out a pair of running shoes the next day.

And that's why I have only one shoe.

Trying not to make a complete dork out of myself, I walked down the (thankfully) empty halls keeping my head and trying not to focus on my shoeless foot.

It was then that I ran into Sam who looked like he just came walking out of the boy's locker room.

"Hey there Goldilocks," I greeted as I walked up next to him.

"I thought we agreed on no more hair jokes," Sam said.

"Yeah, well, I couldn't resist," I confessed mockingly.

"Fine then, Mary Jane," he said.

"Okay, now we're even," I said. "And that's kind of dorky for you to reference Spiderman."

"Well, you recognized it," Sam pointed out.

"True," I conceded.

"Anyway, that reminds me, Finn just told me that joining Glee club is going to well, to put in lightly, get me crushed into oblivion," Sam began, "a factor that you didn't exactly include when talking about the wonders of Glee club."

"'Crushed into oblivion' is your way of putting it lightly?" I asked offhandedly. "That might be a little drastic, and I never mentioned it because I didn't really think Glee club was that bad. I mean, the worse thing that's gong to happen is getting slushied."

"And how bad is that?" Sam asked.

I opened my mouth to reply, but that was when I saw a frightening sight: jocks with slushies. They were walking down the hall…and they were coming right at us.

"I think you're about to find out," I replied.

"What?" he asked before seeing the guys to. "Oh."

The jocks came in a pack, and they reminded me faintly of a horde of hungry animals.

"Hey guys," Sam warned. "You don't have to do this."

"I think we do," the one in the middle said. "See Lady Lips you made the mistake of joining Glee club, and if rumor is correct, you might be singing a duet with a guy. And we don't like gay dudes on our team. Second of all, Red over there shot a spitball at my friend and he wants payback."

My eyes widened as I remembered back to the day where I had shot a spitball at Puck, only for it to hit a bulking Jock behind him.

"But that was an accident!" I explained.

"Yeah, well than I guess me throwing this slushy in your face is going to be an 'accident' too," the victim of my spitball stated.

"Hey, she said it was a _real _accident and it was," Sam said, coming to my side

"Oh, cute you're defending your girlfriend!" one of the goons teased.

"She's not my girlfriend," Sam said same time as I said "I'm not his girlfriend."

The guy just smirked, "It doesn't even matter. You're both getting a slushy bath."

"Come on now, wait a second," I began. "In what world is a spitball equal to a slushy? And second of all, Sam's a member of your football team, shouldn't you guess be, I don't know, _nice_ to him because he's on your team."

"He's not anymore after he totally _failed_ and dislocated his shoulder at our last game!" the middle one pointed out.

"Besides, he joined Glee club and that's reason enough!" the guy exclaimed. "And do you know what happens to people in Glee club? This!"

That's when he and the rest of the Neanderthals threw the slushies at us.

Mine was grape flavoring, that was all I was able to register as the slushy was thrown at my face and its icy, coldness made it feel like someone dramatically turned the temperature down. I then turned to Sam as I remembered that I was not the only one who had the misfortune of being slushied that day.

"They could at least have slushied me with the red one," I spat out through the slush that dripped down my face. "At least then it would match my hair."

Sam, who looked like he was still frozen in shock of what just happened, only looked at me with wide eyes.

"Okay then, I have to remember that this is your first time getting slushied," I reminded myself as I tried to peel off some of the slushy. "Let's go to the bathroom and get cleaned."

He nodded briefly before following me to the lady's room (after I checked to make sure no one was in there of course). Instantly, I grabbed some of the paper towels and handed them to Sam.

I had just started pumping the towel dispenser for more paper towels only to come up empty, when suddenly I heard a voice.

"What happened to you two?" I turned and saw that it was Quinn.

"Slushy wielding jocks," I explained and Quinn's mouth formed an 'O' before walking farther into the room.

"Here I'll help you guys," she said as she walked over to Sam who looked like he was having a harder time adjusting to the slushy then me, but then I guess resistance to it came with experience.

"That was freezing," Sam replied.

"Yeah, well at least neither of you got the blueberry flavor; it's the worst," Quinn stated. "Especially when it gets down your pants; I looked like a creature out of Avatar when I got slushied."

I didn't know how to reply to that, so I started to make my way to the bathroom door, "I'm going to get some towels from the girl's locker room. I'll be back."

"Okay," Quinn replied, and I made my move to the door.

Just as I was leaving, Sam said to Quinn, "I saw Avatar like six times."

I didn't hear what her response to that was though, as I was already walking to the locker room to fetch some towels. After finding and taking them, I proceeded back to the bathroom, where I was about to go in, but stopped just shy of the entrance when something caught my eyes and ears.

It was Quinn and Sam talking very close to each other, and Quinn was gently helping clean Sam of the slushy that was all on him. From my point of view it looked like they were flirting, and that's when I heard Sam say, "It means you have pretty eyes."

For some reason, I suddenly felt…strange. But snapping out of my confusion, I made my way into the bathroom.

"I brought towels," I stated trying to act cheerily.

"Oh well, Sam's about cleaned up," Quinn said, and I realized she was right.

"Okay, then I guess I'll just get myself cleaned up and we can practically forget this whole slushy fiasco."

"Yeah, right," Sam said as he edged towards the door. Then looking at Quinn he said, "Thanks for all your help." Turning to me he said goodbye and then walked out of the bathroom.

"Do you still need help or are you good?" Quinn asked.

"I'm fine," I replied. "There's just a little bit left anyway and my aunt's picking me up so I can change right as I get home."

"Okay, then," Quinn began. "See you tomorrow."

"Adios," I said and then Quinn left.

Quickly, I dried off and then decided there was no way I was going to get the huge purple stain out of my clothes; I left the bathroom and proceeded to the pick-up area where Cheryl was waiting for me.

"Someone looks like she's in a bad mood," my aunt observed as I harshly pulled the car door open and got in with a sigh. "What's wrong Abby and-wait-why are you wet?"

I grumbled something about purple (_purple!_) slushies and no-brain Neanderthals.

Cheryl nodded uncertainly, "Just don't get my seat wet okay?"

"Roger that," I muttered expressionlessly.

Even though, I was looking away from her, I could feel my aunt's gaze one me.

"What?" I barked.

"Why do you only have one shoe?"

I released an angry breath, before drooping my head forward sadly.

"Don't ask."

Then I leaned forward and turned on the music, changing it to heavy metal of all things because I hoped that the noise would make it hard for me to think about today and those flat-out weird signs.

It didn't.

* * *

><p>Realization is a tricky thing.<p>

It can be bad, like when you realize you made a mistake or that something's wrong. Yet, it can also be good, like an epiphany or an "aha moment".

Realization can also show you something that you've never thought was there.

As I laid down on my bed that night, unable to fall asleep because of the ever-present flurry of thoughts that raced through my mind, I realized something. Something that I really wished I hadn't realized.

The realization was two distinct part of the same thing.

It was the realization that something was beginning, and it was the fear that came along with any launch. Part of the reason why I was so fearful of this beginning was because I could tell the ending would be a bad one.

The second part of the realization was a feeling. A feeling that was supposed to be tucked away in the deep recesses of my mind.

It occurred when I saw Sam and Quinn flirting together while cleaning up the mess of a slushy.

I realized that I was jealous.

* * *

><p><strong>I have to apologize for my taking so long to update. To tell you the truth, the reason why I haven't updated is because I've been a bit uninspired, and also because I started writing another story that is completely unrelated to Glee, but for some reason I've been writing that story. I don't know if I'm going to upload it to FF, it depends on how things go.<strong>

**Anyway, the summary is going to be changing to the summary I had on chapter 16.**

**That's all!**

** Review!**


	19. Chapter 19 Avoidance

**Chapter 19 Avoidance**

Maybe I should have known.

It seemed like there were plenty of signs and I just hadn't chosen to see them. I should have though; I really should have.

It's just that…shoes seem to have it out for me.

Actually, it wasn't shoes in plural that irked me; it was usually just one singular shoe. First, it was my father's lone shoe that was one of his last possessions, and now this? A missing shoe. I realize that I have large feet for an average teenage girl, but really?

Something was just not right about my relationship with a lone shoe.

Now, I realize I shouldn't be so focused on my missing shoe. I _should_ be worried about that realization I had yesterday. More so, that _feeling _I had, concerning _emotions_, relating to _people_, who are my _friends_…That's what I should be worried about.

But honestly I was frightened by that realization and let's face it: shoes are a lot less scary than people and _their_ emotions, not to mention _my_ emotions. Besides, a missing shoe should be a problem that is easy done away with.

At least it's supposed to.

"Has anyone seen my shoe?" I asked as I rifled through my gym locker quickly. After the complete debacle of yesterday where I lost that article of my clothing, I had been searching for it vigorously to no avail.

I looked around at my fellow members of the track and cross-country team as they too were getting ready for track practice. They all responded with mumbled "no" and "haven't seen it." As I continued to look for the shoe in my locker, I got increasingly annoyed.

It was these types of issues that made angered me The little, miniscule, and almost insignificant problems were truly what drove me mad because there was so many of them occurring that it seemed like it would never stop. I just hated how these little problems kept appearing, when there already were so much bad.

Suddenly, a voice spoke up, "I think I saw it."

I turned around to see that a girl, who I think was named Candice, was the one who spoke.

"Really?" I questioned, now hopeful. "Where did you see it?"

"Up a tree," she simply replied, causing a few snickers and even out right laughs to sprout from the rest of the girls changing.

Instantly, I went red, but luckily I turned away before anyone could see me.

"Well, in that case, I'll have nothing to worry about then," I muttered sarcastically, almost bitterly.

"Very true," Candice remarked. "But I'm afraid there is something else you should be worrying about."

As she said those words, I realized it was the first time since moving here that I really heard and felt it: animosity. It practically came off her in waves as she spoke. The clever way she responded seemed to make sure each word created some amusement to her and nearby friends, while affecting the person the words were addressed to badly.

"You see," the girl began, "you're in Glee club. _That_ means you're pretty much asking for social alienation and humiliation. So I'm going to give it you and do you know why? I don't like losers on our track team, but, and here's the really juicy part, the thing about track and cross-country is that we're _not_ a team. Not enough at least that you matter. Most of the events are solo, so that means I don't have to _care _about how you do. And yeah, you're shoe is missing. Let me tell you Abigail, it's just the beginning."

I stared at her dumbly, unsure how to react.

I had always known that the male sports teams hated Glee club, and consequently the people in it. However, I had never realized how far that hate stretched.

In a way, it was just another beginning.

And for once, I wanted an end.

* * *

><p>"<em>When I was a little girl, I had a rag doll; The only doll I've ever owned," <em>Mercedes sung as she and Santana began their duet.

"_Now I'll love you just the way I loved that rag doll. But, Only now my love has grown," _Santana soloed this as she and Mercedes danced to the jazzy music.

_And it gets stronger every way  
>And it gets deeper let me say<br>And it gets higher day by day_

Do I love you, my oh my  
>River Deep, Mountain High, yeah, yeah, yeah<br>If I lost you would I cry  
>Oh I love you baby, Baby baby baby<p>

Some of the members of the club looked nervous because of how good their duet was. I personally was enjoying the music as I swayed a little in my chair, even though they would definitely be tough competition.

_When you were a young boy  
>Did you have a puppy<br>That always followed you around  
>Well I'm gonna be as faithful as that puppy<br>No I'll never never let you down_

Cause it gets stronger as the river flows  
>And It gets Better baby, heaven knows<br>And It gets Sweeter baby as it grows

Do I love you, my oh my  
>River Deep, Mountain High, yeah, yeah, yeah<br>If I lost you would I cry  
>Oh I love you baby, Baby Baby Baby<p>

I love you baby like a flower loves a spring  
>I love you baby like a robin loves to sing<br>I love you baby like a schoolboy loves his pie  
>And oh I love you baby, River deep, Mountain high<p>

Ohh Baby  
>Ohh Baby<br>Ohh Baby

Yeah, Yeah

Do I love you, my oh my  
>River Deep, Mountain High, yeah, yeah, yeah<br>If I lost you would I cry  
>Oh I love you baby, Baby baby baby<p>

As they finished their duet, the choir room erupted in applause and Mr. Schue even high-fived the girls as he stood up to congratulate them on their job well done.

"Ladies, nice work!" he stated. "What an incredible song!"

"And just so you know," Santana began, "I've already bought custom bibs for me and Mercedes here. You know why?"

Then in unison they stated, "Cause we be going to Breadstix!"

"Did you hear that guys? You've got your work cut out for you," Mr. Schue announced laughing heartiy.

"We still got this," I murmured to Quinn who sat next to me assuredly. We were to do our duet soon, and even though the madness of my life lately contained the stress of stolen shoes and rushed realizations, I tried to feel confident.

"Yeah, let's hope yesterday's indecisiveness when picking songs wasn't a sign," she anticipated.

I nodded my head in agreement.

Truthfully, I wished that a lot of the predicaments I found myself in yesterday weren't signs.

But I couldn't help but feel that they were.

Actually, that's exactly why I decided to rather focus on a shoe than emotions. I didn't want to think of those feelings as real; it is much easier to lock up those emotions deep away inside me and not think about them. Avoid them. It might not be the soundest plan, nor the smarter by any means, but it was easier that way. So much easier. And right now, that's what I need. I don't want to think about possible feelings to a friend. I mean, I sort-of, kind-of had a boyfriend! I'm not going to be that cliché girl who strays when things get tough, and when the distance is far. Even if this new emotion was more potent than I had ever felt before, to anyone really, I can't face it.

Avoidance really is my only option.

* * *

><p>Kurt walked up to Sam and stood patiently outside of shower cubicle. To get the blonde's attention, he coughed, causing Sam to look at him in shock.<p>

"Don't worry," Kurt insisted, "I'm not going to go all Shawshank on you."

Not looking convinced, as he was uncomfortably avoiding eye contact with Kurt, Sam voiced, "This is kind of weird; guys usually don't talk to each other here."

"Well this can't wait," Kurt replied. "I'm setting you free. You can do your duet with someone else in Glee club. Someone that the world deems more appropriate."

"Did I do something to offend you?" Sam asked turning slightly to look at Kurt confusedly.

"No, no…It's not you, it's me," Kurt claimed. "You've been honorable actually, and I wish you the best, but I realize that I need to sing with someone who matches my passion and talent level."

"Who's that?" Sam asked.

Instead of answering, Kurt looked knowingly at Sam's shampoo, "You know they make special shampoo for color treated hair."

Then he walked off, causing Sam to call off after him, "I don't dye my hair!"

"Uh-uh," replied Kurt, not convinced in the least.

* * *

><p>"Okay guys," Mr. Schuester exclaimed as he yet again proceeded to the front of the choir room. "Who's next?"<p>

"Mr. Schue, if I may?" Kurt asked as he raised his hand up resolutely.

"You may," allowed the teacher as he went to sit down and Kurt went to the middle of the room.

"As many of you know," he began, "I had a duet partner, but due to sensitivities, I'd rather not get into it at the moment, I have dissolved the partnership."

"Okay," Mr. Schue acknowledged slowly. "So who are you going to sing a duet with?"

"Only the most talented member of the Glee club," he replied proudly, and I noticed Rachel perked up in her seat expectedly, only to be disappointed when Kurt said, "Myself." Ignoring the confused looks of the club, he proceeded, "When you're different. When you're special. Sometimes you have to get used to being alone."

I could understand this, not that I'm particularly special, but different? Yeah, I can comprehend why being different makes you feel alone. It's one of the reasons why I hate differentiation in the first place.

Kurt continued, "I have asked some members of the Glee club, as well as the Cheerios to help me out."

"How do you do a duet by yourself?" Santana questioned wryly. "Isn't that like vocal masturbation or something?" A few people snickered, but I rolled my eyes at them.

"I will be doing a number," he explained, "from the single most classic movie _Victor, Victoria_. It's a show about embracing both the male and female sides. Watch and learn Santana. Hit it."

_Bout twenty years ago  
>Way down in New Orleans<br>A group of fellows found  
>A new kind of music<br>And they decided to call it...JAZZ  
>No other sound has<br>What this music has_

_Before they knew it_  
><em>It was squeezing round the world<em>  
><em>The world was ready<em>  
><em>For a blue kind of music<em>  
><em>And now they play it<em>  
><em>From Steamboat Springs to La Paz<em>

_Oh baby, won't you play me_  
><em>Le Jazz Hot maybe<em>  
><em>And don't ever let it end<em>  
><em>I tell you, friend<em>  
><em>It's really something to hear<em>  
><em>I can't sit still<em>  
><em>When there's that rhythm near me<em>

_Oh, so baby_  
><em>Le Jazz Hot may be<em>  
><em>What's holding my soul together<em>  
><em>Don't know whether it's morning or night<em>  
><em>Only know it's sounding right<em>  
><em>So come on in and play me<em>  
><em>Le Jazz Hot maybe<em>  
><em>Cause I love my jazz...HOT<em>

_Before they knew it_  
><em>It was squeezing round the world<em>  
><em>The world was ready<em>  
><em>For a blue kind of music<em>  
><em>And now they play it<em>  
><em>From Steamboat Springs to La Paz<em>

_When you play me_  
><em>Le Jazz Hot baby<em>  
><em>You're holding my soul together<em>  
><em>Don't know whether it's morning or night<em>  
><em>Only know it's sounding right<em>  
><em>So come on in and play me<em>  
><em>Le Jazz Hot baby<em>  
><em>Cause I love... my jazz hot<em>  
><em>Le Jazz Hot<em>

_Le Jazz Hot_

_Le Jazz Hot._

* * *

><p>"Hey Abby," Rachel greeted perkily as she walked up next to me at my locker.<p>

"Hello?" I acknowledged questioningly. Then I saw that look on her face, like a light bulb had gone off and she had an idea, so instantly I turned towards her with a knowing expression on my face. "What do you want?"

"Come on now, is my only reason to talk to you because I want something?" she asked, and I raised my eyebrow. "Okay fine," she relented. "Yes, there is something that I need from you, and it's very easy."

"I'm sure that depends on your definition of easy," I replied mutually before sighing, "What do you need Rachel?"

"I need you to not do a duet with Quinn for the competition," she expressed in one breath as she clasped her hands together.

"What? Why not? Are you scared we're going to be you?" I questioned laughing off the last query. "More to the point, I thought people only cared if boys duet with one another, not girls."

"No, it's not that. Besides, Santana and Mercedes already sung a duet together," she explained, brushing the comment off to the side quickly. "My reason is because now that Kurt and Sam aren't singing together, Sam needs someone to sing with."

"And you want me to?"

"No, I want Quinn to," Rachel corrected. "You see, Sam needs a reason to stay on this team, and what better than having someone he likes on it? If he happens to have a crush on Quinn, considering that she is the type of girl that guys often have crushes on, then there's a better chance of him staying with the club, especially if there's a possibility of a relationship. Additionally, if they were to, by some miracle, beat Finn and I in the competition and win, then that victory would definitely give Sam some confidence and incentive to stay in the club. Besides, it wouldn't make sense for you to duet with him. Kurt already informed me that you have a boyfriend back in New York, which means that a duet with you and Sam would be pointless, and imagine if the two of you won! That'd be awkward wouldn't it? Going out to dinner with your guy friend."

"If Quinn and I were to win, we would go to Breadstix together as friends, so it's not like we are, but if Sam and I were to duet and win it wouldn't be any different," I stated, not actually sure if I was more reassuring Rachel on that last part or myself. "But wait-you're trying to hook Sam up with Quinn?" I asked with (no doubt) a confused appearance.

"Well, not exactly, but Finn and I, as the 'it' couple, feel as if we should do whatever we can to help the Glee club. And if that means that Sam and Quinn become an item, then so be it," she stated calmly, almost looking pleased with herself.

"And you think pairing the two for one measly duet will do that?"

"No, but who knows, they might just win and end up going together to Breadstix," Rachel explained.

"Like a date?"

"Precisely; a date," she repeated as she nodded her head. "So you'll do it then? Get Quinn to duet with Sam?"

"Um…" I began. "Even if I can comprehend your admittedly crazy logic, how am I going to get Quinn to duet with him? She's going to wonder why I didn't want to duet with her, and I honestly don't think she would like the truth, considering that you're trying to get them together. And I'm not going to lie."

Again, I realized that I was being a hypocrite. I mean, here I was telling her that I wasn't going to lie to aid her in her problems, but I was fully content with lying about my own. Well…maybe that in itself was a lie; I don't think I would ever be "content" with deceit. Or content with being a fraud, which I'll be the first to admit, was what I am becoming. However, even if I was a hypocrite and a liar, I wasn't about to lie concerning the relationships of two of my friends. There's a line between lying to yourself and others for you, and lying to someone else for another person, and I wasn't keen on crossing it. For example, I don't feel right being deceitful to Sam and Quinn, yet I am perfectly capable of giving myself the lie that the emotion I felt yesterday was false and that avoidance of that feeling will make it disappear.

I can do that, and I can refuse to accept yesterday's revelation, but despite all these partial-truths and fabrications, I'm not a liar.

This is why I turned to Rachel for answers because it was her problem that she was roping me into and she would have to be the one to figure out how to solve it, without a lie.

"Well, you don't have to lie." I raised my eyebrow speculatively, not sure f I should be more curious about how Berry logic actually made sense to me or how her solution would work. "All you have to do is tell Quinn the truth. You know, just leave out the part about hooking her up with Sam," she explained, but seeing my still confused look she proceeded, "Tell Quinn that you think because Sam's the new kid, he shouldn't be the one without a partner. She'll have to understand that we would want Sam to stay in the club, and excluding him in the first competition wouldn't exactly make him feel welcome."

"And what if she asks why I don't duet with him?"

"That's simple; you already know Sam, you've even duet-ed with him before! Just tell Quinn that you think Sam should know more people in the club, i.e. her, and let the rest of the pieces…fall into place."

"Okay-" I began slowly, though I was cut off as Rachel grasped my shoulder with one hand and the other hand she pointed at a blonde coming down the hallway.

"There she is now!" Rachel stated, starting to push me lightly forward. "Go talk to her."

With that she shoved me, and for a girl of her size, she was considerably strong as I stumbled forward, almost running into Quinn.

"Whoa, there Abby," she proclaimed as I steadied myself. Turning to shoot a glare at Rachel, I saw that she was trying to look nonchalant as she made her getaway. Now I realized that I was on my own to tell Quinn that I was dissolving our duet, I silently cursed myself for listening to Berry. Yet, the girl made sense; we needed Sam to stay on this team, and this would be the best way to make it happen.

At least, that's what I kept telling myself, and who knows? It might be a lie too.

"Are you alright?" Quinn asked, gazing at me with a slightly amused, yet perplexed expression.

"Peachy," I murmured before sighing, "Actually, I'm not that well because…well you see…there's no easy way to do this…"

"Just spit it out Abby." The blonde still looked fairly amused by my stuttering, so I finally I swallowed and said, "I can't do a duet with you."

Instantly, Quinn's expression turned from being amused to be confused, "Wait what? Why?"

"Um, well you know how Kurt just absolved his partnerships with Sam?" She nodded. "Well, now Sam doesn't have a partner, and because he's the new kid, I think he should have a partner."

"And you want to be his partner?"

"No! No, I'm saying _you_ should be," I quickly affirmed, nodding my head as if _I_ weren't confused by what I was doing.

"Me why?"

"First of all, I've already dueted with you and Sam, so I've had my fill of duets for awhile," I explained, an uneasy smile fitting onto my lips. "Also, Sam already knows me, but he doesn't know you and you guys seemed to be getting along just find in the bathroom the other day, so I just thought…"

"That'd him and I would make good partners?" she finished.

"Exactly."

"Well, okay then, I guess that makes sense." Quinn's scrunched eyebrows and confused expression slowly dissipated as she followed along with the plan. "It's probably a good thing then that we haven't done our duet yet."

"Yeah," I agreed as I continued to fail in my attempt to muster some enthusiasm. "It's a good thing we didn't."

At least, it wasn't "fine".

* * *

><p>I'm not a courageous person. I'll be the first to admit it. If this was Harry Potter, there's no way I'd be put in Gryffindor. If I was in any storybook really, I'd doubt that I'd be the hero.<p>

But I'm okay with this. Actually, I'm perfectly content with this quality. It's just…Since I'm not necessarily brave, I don't face my problems head on.

It's like endings. I've said it before and I'll say it again, I don't like them, so I try not to put myself in situations where they are common. To do this, I avoid beginnings. I'm not oblivious though; I know that things are starting and ending all the time, every where. Consequently, my dislike of little issues and slight problems that I had mentioned earlier, is something I _can _deal with because they _are_ minor problems. No matter how annoying and maddening _small_ difficulties are, I'm not affected too terribly. When they begin and end, I'm fine. The larger issues though…they're a bit harder to overcome. That's why I can deal with missing shoes rather than rush realizations. It's the secrets and the events worth knowing that are impossible to stop, which shape my ability to defeat and survive problems. Somehow, these obstacle have caused me to adapt and now instead of fighting the bigger crises, I avoid them.

And that's why I'm avoiding my feelings; they're bigger than I can handle. Well, actually it's only one, singular feeling: jealously. However, that feeling was awfully strong.

I could go on and say the things people in my situation are supposed to say, when they are avoiding their feelings. How I have walls up that won't come down because I've been hurt before. Or how I hide behind my problems. However, this is not my case.

Truly, I just avoid feelings because I'm lacking courage, and because I'm uncertain. I lie for the same reason; I can avoid the truth for just a little bit longer. Of course, if you're like me, you keep saying a whole slew of lies that makes it so you don't have to face the truth at all.

It's kind of a funny in a way, how much of a hypocrite I am. I tell people face their problems, when I avoid mine. I don't lie for others when it benefits them, but I don't have a problem for lying when it comes to me. Because that's what I'm doing right now. Not only am I lying about my parents to everyone. Not only am I lying to myself, thinking that I'm okay with this predicament I've found myself. But I'm also lying to myself, saying that I was okay with the thought of Sam and Quinn together. I'm hiding my emotions away and that right in itself is a huge lie.

Now with all these lies, you'd think it be hard for me to keep up with this façade, but it really wasn't. I could go on just fine because I was avoiding it all.

What I wasn't steering clear of though, was track practice, for the reason that it was a smaller issue and one that I _can _deal with. After my lost shoe miraculously showed up right beside my locker in time for today's practice, vandalized profusely with words like Glee-atch, loser, and other graffiti splattered onto it, creating a stark contrast between my other plain shoe, you'd have thought that I would want to avoid practice too. Yet I didn't. Instead, I went to practice like normal, all the while knowing that the issue was still there and I hadn't done anything about it. Not yet anyway. But you see, I didn't have to; the predicament was still minute enough that I could deal with it.

So that was why I was lacing up my tennis shoes for track on one of the bleachers. It just so happens that was the moment that Sam himself walked up beside me.

"Hey," he greeted.

"Oh hi." I jerked my head up quickly to glance at him before returning to my shoe tying.

"So Quinn talked to me…"

"Yeah? Did she tell you that she wanted to duet with you?" I questioned nonchalantly.

"She did," he explained, "but I was kind of wondering why she asked me when I thought you and her were going to duet together. Did you guys get into a fight our something?"

"No," I assured. "Nothing like that. We just figured it'd be best that way, if you and Quinn dueted. After all, it would hardly be fair for you, our newest member, not to be able to duet in our first competition."

"It seems like you kind of got the short end of the stick then," he replied.

Finishing tying my shoes, I shook my head as I turned to look at him, "No not really. It's for the best and I'm fine with it."

"You're sure fine with a lot of things aren't you?"

The corners of my lips started to turn up and I almost smiled as I said, "I guess, I am."

He opened his mouth to reply when he looked down, something seeming to catch his eye. "Hey, what happened to your shoe?"

At this an almost defeated grin filled my lips. "I decided it needed some extra pizzazz," I muttered sardonically. He raised an eyebrow at me. "It's nothing really," I assured. "Just a…present from one of the girls on my cross-country team."

"Some present," he mused.

"Yeah, well…" I sighed as I changed the subject. "Anyway, good luck on your duet with Quinn. Don't tell anyone, but I'm going to vote for you two."

"Oh, thanks."

I nodded before turning to start running on the track. I ran past Candice and her group of Glee club hating friends, I ran past Sam and his football team, and I ran past Quinn and the Cheerios.

More or less, I was running past my problems.

* * *

><p><strong>Review?<strong>


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